


Dirty Job

by TessaTheLessa



Category: Banana Bus Squad, Grand Theft Auto V, VanossGaming
Genre: Additional Warnings in Author's Notes, Anxiety Attacks, Betrayal, Blood, Drug Use, GTAV-AU, Jealousy, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Past Relationship(s), Rated For Violence, Recreational Drug Use, Suicide, Unhealthy Relationships, rated for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:11:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 39
Words: 100,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessaTheLessa/pseuds/TessaTheLessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one fanfiction where Terroriser is a brutal kingpin, MiniCat is the cutest thing, Jonathan is a homicidal psychopath, and Evan is there to soak in trauma like a sponge. [THIS IS CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN, AND ONCE IT IS, THIS VERSION WILL BE DELETED AND THE NEW ONE WILL BE POSTED ON A SCHEDULE. I PROMISE, IT'LL BE BETTER.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What are we?

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first fanfiction, thanks for tuning in. there will most likely be a lot of errors and stupidity, seeing as how this is my first actual project. this first chapter is mostly a silly chapter, just to kind of get a feel of everyone and build up some shit. stay tuned to the end for another note, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ <3

“See him?” The harsh voice of the Owl whispers, making sure that only the Pig could hear him.

Marcel tosses and turns on the couch where he restlessly naps, pushing the blanket off of his body and onto the hardwood floor.

“Target locked.”

He huffs lightly in annoyance, rubbing his eyes grouchily.

“3...”

Marcel curls around a pillow, and the sudden pressure on his full bladder ripping him from his resting state.

“2...”

He sits up a bit, stretching his arms above his head with an annoyed groan.

“1... NOW!!”

Marcel jumps at the yell, turning just in time to be pelted with marshmallows and cotton balls. Tyler and Evan jump from their hiding places behind the corner where the hallway connects to the living room, heist masks situated on their heads, ridiculous pajamas still on their body. Marcel swats desperately at the oncoming objects, confused and disorientated, even attempting to pick up the blanket from the floor and use it as cover.

“Evan!! Tyler, stop it!” He yells, picking up a few of the small objects and chucking them hard in the other men's direction. They both duck back behind the wall, reaching out and picking up more ammo from off the floor and returning Marcel's fire. Marcel continues tossing the objects, jumping over the back of the couch and using it as a fort.

The rain of marshmallows and cotton balls stop from Marcel's end, and everything's dead silent. Tyler looks to Evan, and Evan returns the look.

“You give up, Marcel?” Tyler calls through his mask, tossing a marshmallow into the air and catching it repeatedly. With no response, Evan peaks his head out a bit to see the situation. There's a brown blur, flying towards him quickly.

_Woah, the fuck?_

Before he can register what it is, a pillow slams right into the front of his owl mask, knocking him out of his hiding place and onto the floor in the middle of the hallway.

Evan dramatically yells, flopping over in a playful way, reaching out to Tyler.

“The... Son of a bitch.. He got me..” Evan croaks in an over-acted voice, even adding in a few fake sobs and coughs. “Tell my wife... I love her...”

Evan goes limp with a dramatic groan, letting go of the ammo he was holding. Tyler watches, clutching his marshmallow with faked anger. He turns back to Marcel, drawing back his hand and aiming at the man behind the couch.

“You killed Evan, you dick!!” Tyler yells, throwing the large handful of ammunition at Marcel. Marcel ducks behind the couch again, only to come back up a second later and launch another pillow. Tyler doesn't react in time, resulting in him being hit in the face with the plush object.

Tyler falls back onto Evan's torso, causing Ev to tense up and groan at the sudden weight of his friend. Tyler goes limp on Evan's stomach, effectively holding him down.

“Duuuude!!” Evan hollers towards Marcel, wriggling under Tyler as he attempts to push the “dead” man off of him. “Your pillow killed Tyler on me! Gross, man.”

“That's what fuckin' happens when you decide to pelt a sleeping man with bullshit, you fucking pricks.” Marcel snaps back, coming out from his cover behind the couch, picking up cotton balls and marshmallows on his way up and tossing them onto the dining room table carelessly.

“You were awake,” Tyler says with a dismissive tone, lazily sliding off of Evan and sitting up, gently removing the pink rubber from off his head. Evan follows suite, sitting up and pulling his own mask off his head, running his fingers through his freshly messed up hair.

“Because I had to pee!” Marcel picks up the final marshmallow from his side of the “battle field”, throwing it in Tyler's direction.

“You're just mad because we were getting payback for _your_ shenanigans,” Evan says to Marcel, a small smirk curling his lips. Marcel glares at him, pointing a finger at the two.

“No, you two started this little bullshit war!”

“That is a lie!” Tyler hollers towards Marcel.

“Yeah man, I started it,” Evan laughs, nudging Tyler a bit with his fist. “Then I recruited Ty, so yeah. You lie, Marcel.”

Marcel groans, rubbing his face with his hands to try and rid himself of his exhaustion. He waves his hands dismissively towards the pair, turning on his heel to the small bathroom, closing himself in.

Evan highfives Tyler, chuckling a bit with his friend. They both push themselves to their feet, heading to their heist room and storing away the masks neatly.

“We definitely gotta do that again real soon, dude,” Tyler chuckles to Evan, looking at the empty cotton ball bag stuffed in the trashcan. Evan rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, nerd. I'm splitting.” Tyler nods in agreement to Evan, giving his friend a light fist bump before they leave the heist room, heading opposite directions.

Evan steps through the door and into his darkened bedroom, looking to the furthest side of the room to the bed where Brock lay, facing away from him. He quietly enters the room, closing the door and heading to his own bed. He sits on the edge, contemplating getting a shower during his current free time. He has to admit, the idea sounds fantastic, but he can't bring up enough desire to actually do it. He's bored now, and in his mind, there's seemingly nothing to do.

He leans until he's lying on his back, staring up to the ceiling. He can't even think properly, mostly thinking of useless thoughts and white static that he can't even focus enough on to understand. He rubs his face with aggravation, looking over to his roommate again. Brock stirs a bit and Evan watches, glancing at the clock on his nightstand.

_4:13 pm_

Evan rolls his eyes, cursing silently for the fucked up sleeping schedule his friends have (though, he can't really get upset at them for it. He's only been up for maybe 45 minutes). He heads into his bathroom, sliding a plain black t-shirt over his wife beater, leaving his legs covered by his stylish banana print pajama pants. He plucks his sunglasses from off the bathroom counter, silently sliding his feet into a pair of plain black slippers and heading to the door, deciding to himself that some fresh air might help him out. He quietly leaves the room, making sure to avoid waking Brock as he left.

As he heads to the door to leave the apartment, he stumbles upon a fully dressed Tyler, sitting on the couch and sliding shoes onto his feet, a drawstring backpack next to him, stuffed with what Evan assumes to be his pajama's. Tyler looks up as Evan enters and watches him head to the kitchen, giving him a nod in greeting.

“Going somewhere?” Ev asks, pushing around some of the cotton balls and marshmallows that have gathered up on the dining room table until he finds his car keys.

“Craig is back from his trip to see his parents. Gonna meet him at home,” Tyler replies, standing from his spot on the couch, a small smile on his face. Evan smiles at his friend's excitement. It's cute how much Tyler adores Craig, and maybe even a bit cheesy.

“I'm about to go for a drive, want a ride?” Evan offers, jingling his keys in his hands. He figures why not. He doesn't have much of a plan to begin with, and helping out a friend is a plus. Tyler shakes his head.

“I'm gonna run a few errands before I head over there, I'll just bike around,” Tyler says, picking up his phone from the coffee table and shoving it into his pants pocket. “Thanks for the offer though, man.”

Ev nods to him, waving goodbye as he heads out the door of the apartment. He waits for the elevator at the end of the hall, cursing himself for having an apartment on the 23rd floor. He looks out the window at the end of the hallway, taking in the sight of the city below him.

Evan likes days like this. Hell, sometimes he absolutely craves it. The days where he and his friends can just lay back and have fun all day without risking their lives. Days where he can just chill. Days where he can pretend, just for a minute, that he wasn't the leader of one of the most feared crews in Los Santos.

The elevator dings, bringing Evan out of his daze. He rides to the lobby, doing his best to ignore the noisy blonde next to him, talking on the phone about useless rumors. As soon as the doors are opened, he pushes past her and walks out of the lobby. He immediately regrets not putting on his sunglasses before heading outside. With a light groan, he quickly puts his shades on, taking a moment to get used to the fresh air and natural sunlight. It wasn't often he 's out in the sun, as the crew business tends to occur at night.

He begins to take steps onto the sidewalk, fiddling with his keys as he walks down the semi-busy sidewalk, heading for his black and yellow Zentorno parked on the street. Just before reaching his vehicle, he's stopped by someone yelling his name.

Turning, he sees Brock jogging lightly towards him, Evan's phone in one hand, his own in the other. Evan smiles at his friend, reaching out and accepting his phone once Brock reaches him.

“Been forgetting that a lot lately,” Brock chuckles to him. Evan nods a bit in reply, cursing himself for forgetting it again.

“Thanks, man. Did I wake you up or something?” Evan leans against the hood of his car, crossing his arms to avoid fiddling with things and making noise. Brock shakes his head in reply, then scrunches up his nose a bit in thought.

“Well, you didn't wake me when you were leaving, but definitely when you attacked Marcel.”

Evan can't help but snicker, a smug grin on his face. He honestly forgot about the other roommate while he and Tyler planned their attack.

“Maybe you shouldn't stay up until 8 in the fucking morning, dickhead,” Evan replies playfully, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Hey, don't you dare. You're in the same boat as me, Mister Night Owl.”

Evan rolls his eyes, groaning at the nickname. He really hates Sark for coming up with that.

“Also, where the _fuck_ do you think you're going, Evan?” Brock's tone suddenly changed to a serious one, making Evan stare at his friend in shock. Brock stared back, arms crossed over his chest, and expectant look on his face.

“Uh..” Evan mumbles. “Just... A drive..?”

“You, sir, promised chinese food for breakfast if I didn't tell Marcel you hid his chargers from him, so pay up.” Brock puts his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest to seem intimidating with his demand. Evan slaps his hand to his forehead, rubbing the skin in an irritate fashion.

“You're such a loser,” Evan groans.

“A loser that you owe a takeout breakfast. Let's go,”

Evan rolls his eyes, climbing into the drivers seat as Brock gets situated in the passenger seat. Evan shoves the key in and starts the ignition, then proceeds to drive through Morningwood at a relatively normal speed. He stops in a parking lot, parking just ahead of a small Chinese takeout restaurant not too far down the road from them. Drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, he watches as Brock unbuttons his seat belt, a huge grin across his face. Brock swings his door open and stops, looking back at Evan.

“Aren't you coming?” He asks Evan.

“Pajamas, dude,” Evan smirks, gesturing towards his attire, making sure to wiggle his slipper-covered toes extra aggressively for Brock to see. Brock lets out a loud, childish whine, pouting dramatically before turning and grouchily sliding out of the car.

“Your usual?”

“Pleeeease, Moo-Moo.” Evan smirks as Brock groans loudly at his own nickname, slamming the car door closed and heading inside.

 

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

 

Evan leans back on the hood of his Zentorno, crossing his legs at the ankles and kicking the few grass blades on the ground near him, taking another large bite of his takeout. With a loud sigh, Brock comes from the Passenger side of car, wielding multiple napkins and his Chinese takeout box. He scoots himself onto the hood of the car, crossing his legs and shoving his napkins in his lap.

After they picked up their food, they decided to just have a while to themselves while they had the opportunity to. Evan drove them out through the streets of Richman, driving up into Banham Canyon, where they were able to find a flat space with a view of the ocean to stop and eat for a while.

The view is amazing, and Evan is definitely thankful for the fact that his day is turning out to be this good so far. He takes a few more silent bites, basking in the natural light and fresh air again. He stares out at the ocean, watching as the sun sets below the water.

“Oh, hey,” Brock breaks the silence, wiping his mouth clean with a napkin. “Why was Tyler here today? Why isn't he at home?”

“Craig was at his parents or something for some family get together for like four days,” Evan replies through a mouthful of Chinese takeout, shrugging his shoulders a bit as he speaks. “He's coming come today, so Tyler's probably home already.”

“Well why didn't he go with him?”

“ _Family_ get together, Brock. They aren't family yet.” Evan grins a bit. Brock nudges his shoulder a few times playfully, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically.

“Not yeeeeeeeet,” he mimics in a sing song voice, laughing a bit before taking a large bite. Evan follows suite, stuffing his mouth with some more takeout.

It's silent for another few moments until Brock swallows his bite.

“He still doesn't know?” He asks, his voice dropping a bit.

“Know what?”

Brock rolls his eyes.

“Where the money for their rent is coming from?? Is it still a secret?”

“Oh, definitely.” Evan scoffs a bit, wiping his mouth with a napkin and tossing his empty container into a nearby doggy waste bin. The older man nods a bit, poking at his food with his fork.

“Do you think it's really worth it, Ev?” Brock asks him, all joking tones in his voice gone. Evan stares at Brock, a confused expression clear on his face.

“Is what worth it?”

“The Crew.”

Evan was definitely taken aback. He had never expected that question, especially from Brock. It really begins to make him think. Evan turns his head forward, taking in the sight of the ocean once more.

Evan opens his mouth to reply, but he can't manage to speak. He wants to just say yes, everything they've done in the past 5 months is worth everything they have, but part of him knows it isn't. At first, he was completely fine with the idea. They've all had their moments in their life when they broke the law, this was not too different. Just, larger scale and more organized. They've flawless executed every job and robbery they've been a part of, they're a perfect crew. Nothing too bad could happen to them, right?

“Brock,” Evan finally croaks out, staring out at the water. “Honest answer?” He glances to the man beside him. Brock nods.

“Truth is, I can't answer that question for you right now.” Evan rubs the back of his neck, trying to find something to do with his hands. “I mean, it's just a 50/50 thing. We're a great crew, Brock, and we're getting good at what we do. This is basically just how we're fighting to survive.”

Evan hisses through his teeth a bit, Brock nodding a little, staring at the scenery ahead of them. After a second of nodding, he shakes his head a little, looking over at Evan with a confused look.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm not the best with pep talks or anything like that..” Brock laughs a bit and nods. “But seriously, just... Try not to think about it, okay? Once we have enough money from all this shit, we can quit the crew life and go back to the way it was. But if you think too much of the consequences of this, then that's all you'll see. Just give us time, and we'll be set for life. Alright?”

Evan claps his hand on Brock's shoulder, giving his friend a reassuring smile.

“I think your medication has turned you into a reckless optimist, Ev.” They share a laugh, Evan lightly pushing Brock's shoulder. Maybe Brock was right, the medications he's been taking for the past month had been turning his moods completely around. He used to be scared constantly, panicking often, especially the first few days after a job of theirs. Even when Brock knew Evan years before they thought about the crew, Evan had a major problem with his anxiety. But since he got his hands on some medication, the entire crew has notices an improvement in Evan's leadership.

Evan pushes all the thoughts out of his head, staring out ahead of him. Brock does the same, both of them enjoying the sounds of nature as the sun sets. As great as the silence is, it doesn't last long.

They're interrupted by Evan's phone chiming loudly, telling him he's received a text. Evan groans a bit, standing up off the car an fishing his phone from his pocket, checking to see the sender. Seeing Sark's name across his screen, he unlocks his phone.

_Gave Tyler's man a job at the Ponsoby's. Adam and Anthony are keeping their mouths shut. Be careful around the shop from now on._

Evan's face scrunches in confusion slightly, but he types out a message in agreement anyway, trusting Sark's decision. Still, he's sure he's going to be having an in person discussion with Sark about how the fuck he thinks they're going to be able to keep the crew a secret with Craig that close to the safehouse. Making no effort in removing a nosey Brock from peering over his shoulder to watch his thumbs dance across the screen, he locks his phone and shoves it in his back pocket, standing and taking a huge stretch.

“Time to head back?” Brock asks, moving from his place on the hood of the car to throw away his takeout trash. Evan nods, placing himself in the drivers side of the car and turning the ignition on. Once Brock is comfortable, he speeds off down the road once more, returning them to their apartment in the Morningwood area of Los Santos.


	2. the chapter where everyones scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Anxiety attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyy this is super fast. i basically have had an entire day to work only on this fanfiction, so i accidentally finished and edited the second chapter. might as well post it, amirite? also, this is still kinda a filler chapter, but at least you get to see into Evan's mind and meet some new characters????????
> 
> there is an anxiety attack in this chapter, it's literally the entire first half of this. 
> 
> this is set around 3 days after the first chapter, thought you guys should know.
> 
> stay tuned to the end for more notes, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

 

Evan steps from the shower stall, tightly wrapping a plush towel around his waist. He reaches for the smaller towel on the counter slowly, taking a moment to watch as the steam flows around the florescent lights above the mirror. He can't help but just stare and watch the small patterns that form as the steam twists and bends around itself, wishing he could be flying as freely as the vapors were.

 

He closes his eyes, pushing the cheesy thoughts from his head as he leans over the counter, wiping the mirror to clear the steam that's been gathering on the glass. He watches himself as he rubs the towel through his hair, making it at least semi dry. Once the rest of him is sufficiently dried, he slips on a pair of basket ball shorts, choosing not to dress up too much yet.

 

He reaches for the muscle shirt on the counter before stopping, his eyes glued to his abdomen. He stares at the bullet scar that taints his skin on his side, painfully reminding him what money does to someone's mind. He's gone so long ignoring the fact that it's there that it doesn't even exist to him anymore, or so he thought. His ears are suddenly filled with the painfully loud beat of his heart, growing faster as the seconds pass by. The memories flood into his head and he squeezes his eyes tight, dropping the shirt on the counter again in favor of rubbing his temples.

 

_Control,_ he thinks to himself, his breathing picking up quickly. He's beginning to feel light headed, the dark memories flooding his mind. 

 

“ _Baby, it won't be too much longer now,” The once beautiful voice laughed at him, the once soothing blue eyes staring from across the room. The pain in his side was becoming unbearable, and Evan couldn't stop the choked sobs that escape his throat._

 

“Stop,” Evan mumbles to himself, gripping his hair in his violently shaking hands. He forces himself to take deep breaths, feeling like he's suffocating. He looks around the bathroom quickly and the walls begin to move closer around him. Using the counter as support for his trembling legs, he throws the bathroom door open, rushing himself to his bed.

 

_Evan gripped his wound tight, watching in disbelief as the red liquid flows between his fingers. He grabs his gun from his waistband and glances around the kitchen quickly, panting from pain and panic. His vision blurred, he stared at the oven._

 

_Gas oven._

 

_He lunged as quick as he could to the old stove, turning all four knobs to high, listening to the hiss of the gas as it's released into the air._

 

“ _Gas is leaking into this apartment, Johnathan! Get the fuck out or I'm taking you with me!” Evan managed to croak, gripping his side tighter as the pain began to increase shockingly._

 

“STOP IT!” Evan thinks. Or maybe he actually screams it. He isn't sure.

 

Nothing around him is registering at the moment. He collapses on the floor before he's even able to reach the bed, gripping tightly at the carpet. He can't think through his rapid heartbeats, his heavy breathing. The pain and memories of everything feels so real that he can't tell if he's dreaming or has somehow gone back in time. His gut is burning, throbbing, his skin is radiating heat. Tears are flowing freely from his eyes and Evan isn't quite sure when they began falling, but he doesn't care.

 

The pain suddenly dulls by a bit, and Evan feels lighter. He feels hands all over him; his neck, face, arms. He can't help but begin coughing, his throat is so tight that he can't say anything, tears soaking his cheeks and even his neck.

 

“ _That bounty is gonna be mine, Vanoss.”_

 

_Vanoss._

 

_Evan._

 

“Evan!!”

 

Evan rips his eyes open, gulping down deep breaths. He's met face to face with Brock, his friend's eyes filled with a deep concern. Brock is holding Evan's wrists in his hands, his eyes glued to Evan's as he sits in front of him on the floor of their shared bedroom.

 

“Evan, you gotta think man, where's your medicine?” Brock asks urgently, his voice barely audible compared to Evan's heart.

 

Evan can't respond to him, and instead lets out a whimper, shaking his head quickly to him. He twists his shaking arms in attempts to get out of others grip. Brock isn't holding on tight at all, and Evan isn't really set on actually escaping his grip. The physical contact of his best friend definitely helps soothe his anxiety in the slightest, but the pain still throbbed at his side annoyingly, causing more sobs to escape his throat.

 

“Evan, please, we need to get you taken care of!” Brock says to him, his voice dropping by a bit, his tone shifting more in hopes to not sound too panicked himself.

 

The room is suddenly filled with a loud song, the phone on Evan's bed vibrating with a phone call.

 

Evan jumps at the noise as it fills the tense air, using it as a distraction from his anxiety. He takes a loud, deep breath, staring at Brock's eyes as he listens to the song, feeling his throat beginning to relax. Brock's hands let go of Evan's wrists, moving up to rest on the sides of his panicking friend's face, keeping their eyes locked together.

 

“Ev. Medicine.” Brock says again, thumbs softly stroking the bones of Evan's cheeks, smearing some of the tears.

 

“Nightstand... Xanax,” Evan mumbles, lifting a shaky hand to lightly grab onto one of Brock's hands, hesitantly removing it from his face. He keeps a light grip on him, not wanting to give the memories a chance to attack him once again. Brock nods and stands slowly, not taking steps towards the nightstand until Evan slowly releases his grip on Brock's hand.

 

The song is still ringing, and Evan begins to realize he's heard that song playing before. He quickly turns to his bed, shooting an arm out and grabbing the phone (much to Brock's protests). Sark's name lights up the screen, and Evan is tempted to ignore it. He remembers the fact that this is the second call and roughly taps the accept button.

 

“Yeah?” Evan grunts, using every ounce of control he has in his body to keep his voice from quivering.

 

“Ev, my boy!” The cheery voice yells through the phone, forcing Evan to remove the device from his ear for a moment as he pulls himself up onto the plush mattress. Brock looks up from the nightstand and scrunches his nose at the loud man.

 

“What's up, man?” Evan says as cheerfully as he can manage, watching as Brock grabs a small pill bottle from the drawer and turn it in his hands a few times, reading the label thoroughly.

 

“Remember the shipment I got for you and your boys?” Sark asks, not giving Evan a chance to reply. “Just came in, and I even got a little surprise in it just for you.”

 

Evan rubs his forehead, closing his eyes and nodding as if the man on the other end can see him. Brock watches his roommate for a moment before reaching out and rubbing his shoulder affectionately, taking the pill bottle to the kitchen in search of a drink for Evan. The younger man relaxes at the gesture, opening his eyes again to watch Brock leave.

 

“I'm assuming you're wanting us to stop by?” Evan asks, his hand absentmindedly moving to his scar and rubbing the sore skin softly.

 

“My shop's open as always.”

 

They exchange farewells, and Evan never thought he could be so happy about getting off the phone with someone. His side hurts still, and the constant throbbing is beginning to worry him. He focuses on the loud thumping of Brock's footsteps as the older man returns, holding what sounds like a water bottle.

 

“Evan! Get your hand away from that.” Brock's demanding tone makes Evan jump slightly, but he pulls his hand from his side nonetheless, returning it to his face and attempting to rid himself of his tears.

 

“It's fine, Brock,” Evan practically whimpers, removing his hands from his face and staring up at Brock with tired eyes, holding a hand out for the water. Brock raises his eyebrows, placing the cold object in the other's hand. Evan quickly opens it, taking a few large gulps.

 

“The way you were clawing at it doesn't seem okay.”

 

Evan almost chokes on the water. _Clawing?_ What is he talking about?

 

He removes the bottle from his lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Evan stares at Brock, watching as the man struggles to open the pill bottle and tap a single capsule into the cap, holding it out to Evan. Evan extends his hand and accepts the pill, placing it on the back of his tongue and taking a quick swig of water, pushing the pill to his stomach. Quickly capping the bottle, he stands on shaky legs and heads to the bathroom, staring at himself in the mostly cleared mirror.

 

The area around his scar is bright red, and five distinct fingernail markings blossom around the circular wound, some of the markings even tearing through skin. Evan's stomach does flips, and he feels dizzy again. All that pain he thought he was feeling, that was all _him._ What the fuck is he doing to himself?

 

The soft footsteps remind Evan of the other's presence, and Brock is soon in view of the mirror, his hand lifting slowly to rest on the door frame. Evan closes his heavy eyes, letting his head slowly fall forward as his hands feel across the smooth surface of the bathroom counter. Evan hates to show this side of himself to Brock, but sometimes he doesn't have a choice. Though, in all honesty, he's glad it's Brock with him out of all people.

 

Brock opens his mouth, hands fiddling with the door frame nervously.

 

“Brock,” Evan cuts him off, causing Brock to snap his mouth shut. Evan takes a deep breath for what seems like the millionth time, hesitantly grabbing the muscle shirt from the counter.

 

“Later, please.” He mumbles in a defeated tone, slipping the garment over his head and rolling it down his body.

 

“Of course.” Brock nods to him a bit, backing up to get out of Evan's way as the tired man leaves the bathroom, heading straight for his dresser and grabbing a pair of socks.

 

“I'm gonna pick up Tyler, head on over to Scott's,” He announces, trading a nod with Brock as he balances to put the socks on his feet. “Wanna follow?”

 

Brock shakes his head, yawning loudly as he stretches his arms high above his head. Evan's lips curl up the slightest as he watches Moo, grabbing an old pair of skate shoes from under his bed and shoving his feet into them. Shoving his phone and keys into his pocket, he gives Brock a small one-armed hug, basking in the comfort of the small action before hesitantly leaving the apartment.

 

 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

 

 

Tyler pushes through the doors to the Ammunation, holding it open behind him as Evan quickly slips inside. Sark is talking loudly behind the counter to the man in front of him, which Evan assumes to be a normal customer. Sark makes eye contact with Evan, but ignores the pair otherwise, and Evan is already aware of what he wants.

 

Evan shoves his hands in his pockets, casually glancing through the electronic gear on the shelves. Tyler joins him, even pointing out small objects to his friend in an attempt to seem like regular customers. Evan can't help but constantly watch the other customer, listening to him speak. The guy _looks_ normal enough; Broad shoulders, dark hair and a neat, short beard. His voice is fairly deep, a small Hispanic accent coating his words, but something about the man makes Evan feel uneasy.

 

When the man hands Scott his I.D, Evan can see how the shopkeepers neck tenses up a bit. The entire time after that, Sark doesn't stop tapping his fingers against the glass counter, his eyes never peeling from the customers face.

 

As the brunette man gathers his things to leave. He makes eye contact with Tyler, a small smirk curling his lips. He nods to the pair as he passes them, exchanging a small greeting with them as he leaves the shop.

 

Evan turns to Sark, and almost pukes at the aura the man gives off. He's so tense, fingers pushing against the glass hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. He's glaring at the door as if the other man can still see him, his normal smile completely disappeared from his face.

 

Tyler flips the sign on the door to “Closed,” glancing through a crack between posters on the glass, watching the Man pull out of the parking lot on a deep red Akuma.

 

“That guy's fuckin' weird,” Tyler mumbles to the others, turning back to the store and walking to the counter. Evan follows with a nod, leaning against the glass.

 

“He used a Fake,” Sark says to them, beginning to tap his fingers again. “Guy reminds me of one of Terroriser's, but I really don't wanna put labels on him like that yet.”

 

“Terroriser's?” Tyler squawks, eyes opening wide in surprise.

 

“Why would he come here, then?” Evan asks, staring at the wall with wonder. The thought of one of Terroriser's men making their way into their territory made him nervous. He's never personally had to deal with the brutal Kingpin, and he'd like it to stay that way.

 

Sark shakes his head, letting a loud sigh escape from his lips. Evan watches the stressed man rub his temples, exchanging a concerned look with Tyler. His stomach begins to do flips, feeling like his friends were now in danger. Maybe Tyler has the same idea, seeing how his friend's pupils were dilated beyond belief.

 

“Whatever it is,” Sark groans to them, “It's hopefully only about me. You guys are careful, I'm sure Brian doesn't know you guys are based near here yet.”

 

_Yet_ , Evan thinks to himself.

 

With a small nod, the three come to a silent agreement to drop the subject. Sark glances to the door and nods to the sign, slipping the large fingerless gloves from off his hand and clicking a button beneath the counter, a loud series of clicks heard from the locking doors. He waves his hand to the two, motioning for them to follow as he leads the pair to the next room, his goofy smile returning to his lips. 

 

“Now,” He begins. “I know what you two are really here for, and I gotta say, I'm excited for you to see your gift, Ev.”

 

Evan rolls his eyes as he follows close behind the older man, and Tyler just behind him. They're lead to a large stock room, consisting mostly of large unopened boxes of weapons and ammunition, as well as new shipments of body armor and other supplies. Sark crosses the room to a cleared table, reaching underneath and heaving a crate from the floor and setting it loudly onto the table. Sark returns to underneath the table, pulling out a smaller (but still rather large) case, placing it behind the first crate with a bit more care. He motions for the two to come closer, and they obey, stepping to either side of the shop owner. 

 

Sark grabs a rusted crowbar from a nearby shelf, wedging the end of it under the top panel of of the wooden crate, putting his weight on the metal until the top pops off, revealing a shitton of packing confetti and packing peanuts. Evan takes the top and slides it underneath the table, poking it with his foot until it's out of their way.

 

“Now, check out some of these bad boys,” Sark coos, shifting through the soft papers before finding what he's looking for. Carefully, he pulls up an Assault Shotgun, shaking the sticky packing objects off of the shiny new metal. Tyler's jaw drops to the floor, staring at the beautiful weapon. Evan laughs at Tyler, also taking in the condition of the weapon. 

 

Sark smirks a bit, placing it on the table next to Tyler before digging through again, retrieving another of the same weapon. Tyler gawks at the identical guns, a huge smile from ear to ear. Evan stares at the weapons, tapping his fingers against the table. He'd gotten weapons from Sark before, but those were just tiny pistols and stolen police weapons. These were ordered specifically for their crew, and something about that makes Evan's heart jump. He knew Scott would take care of them, but he never thought they'd be given such expensive things. 

 

“Those are for your closer range conflicts, alright? Super powerful, and they _definitely_ have some kick to them. I'll teach you guys more when the whole crews here.” Sark smiles to them, clapping Tyler on the shoulder lightly. 

 

“That's awesome! Thank you, so much,” Evan manages to say to him, still admiring the shininess of the new metal. Sark smirks to the younger man.

 

“Don't thank me yet, there's more.” Sark begins to shift through the crate again. There's _more?_ Evan opens his mouth to ask what he's talking about, but is stopped by Scott pulling out a Carbine Rifle from the crate, brushing the peanuts and confetti from the metal. Both jaws drop, and the shop keeper laughs loudly.

 

“You two act like you've never seen guns before,” Sark chuckles, placing the Carbine down and fishing a second one from the box, placing it next to the first.

 

“We have,” Tyler squeaks. “They just weren't ours.”

 

“Well then this is your lucky day. These are the most accurate of the SMG's that I have to offer, plus it's power isn't bad at all. You guys should have a blast with these,” Scott lifts the crate and drops it onto the floor, kicking it under the table with it's top. Tyler stares at the weapons, fingers itching to touch.

 

“Those are yours,” Sark chuckles as he watches Tyler. “Go ahead.”

 

Tyler hesitates for a moment before picking up one of the Rifle's, fingers studying the metal.

 

Evan smiles as he watches Tyler, itching to study the weapons closer as well. He jumps at the sudden clap on his shoulder, looking at the shopkeeper with a large smile. 

 

“Now, here's the big thing.” Sark reaches over to the smaller case, laying it down on it's side and flipping the buckles open, tossing the lid back. Evan almost chokes.

 

Inside is a huge sniper rifle, bigger than any he's seen around the store. The scope sits neatly in a dent in the Styrofoam, an extra shoulder strap tied up neatly and set in it's own place. Evan stares at the rifle, unable to get over how huge the gun is compared to any he's shot. Tyler notices the Rifle and gasps, staring at the metal object.

 

“Whadya think?” Scott asks, a large smile across his face. Evan looks at him, completely speechless. The older man pry's the gun from it's place, turning it in his hands a few times, holding it out to get a good look at it.

 

“This, my boy, is a Heavy Sniper Rifle. One of the best you're gonna get. Brain splatters for yards,” He chuckles, setting the weapon in Evan's arms.

 

Evan almost drops the gun, it's so heavy. This is one of the largest guns he's ever even  _seen_ , and it's  _his_ . His fingers trace over the butt of the gun, all the way to the barrel. The cold metal gives him chills, and he can't help the wide grin that spreads across his face. Tyler peeks over Sark's shoulder, admiring the weapon as well. Evan's still speechless, staring at the new weapon in his hands.

 

“Thank you,” He finally croaks, laughing a bit. Scott laughs loudly, shaking his head. 

 

“Told you I'd take care of the crew,” Sark reminds him. “I plan on keeping that promise.”

 

Tyler laughs a bit, practically hugging one of the Carbine's to his chest. Evan laughs a bit as well, mostly at his friend's childish excitement. 

 

“How much do we owe?” Tyler asks, tapping his fingers against the metal. Sark quickly shakes his head. Placing a hand on Tyler's shoulder and giving him a friendly squeeze.

 

“All you guys have to do is remember to buy ammo when need be. Which reminds me, I'll need to pack some up to send with you.” Sark taps his chin in thought while he turns, scanning the shelves of ammunition with his eyes. Evan's jaw drops once more, and he shares a shocked glance with Tyler. The owner shuffles to the other side of the room, grabbing an old box and beginning to neatly tetris some small ammo boxes into it. 

 

“I-I don't know what to say, Sark,” Evan is finally able to say, neatly packing his rifle back into the designated place. Sark groans as he stretches up, reaching a box from a higher shelf.

 

“Don't say anything yet, just be thankful.” Sark closes the flaps of the box, carrying the small object to the table and setting it behind the Rifle case. 

 

The three spend a good amount of time sorting the four smaller weapons into a large duffel bag, along with the box of ammunition and a silencer for each gun, including the Heavy Sniper. The Sniper remains in its case, the lid closed and locks locked. Evan insists on carrying the sniper case with him, giving Tyler the bag to carry on his shoulder.

 

Once they were situated, Scott follows them back to the front of the empty store, proud with himself at how happy his boys are. 

 

“Anything else for you two?” Scott asks once they return to the front, slipping back behind the glass counter. Tyler suddenly shoots his head up, and Evan looks at him. They share a look, and Evan nods a bit.

 

“Yeah,” Ev says, placing the case gently on the floor next to him. Sark leans against the counter, smiling his goofy smile, listening to Evan. “I was gonna ask about the whole Craig thing, really.”

 

“Oh,” Sark nods a bit, drumming his fingers against the counter again. “Well, I figured it would be nice. Anthony and Adam say that they get super busy sometimes and that they could always go for an extra hand. Besides, you two could always use the extra money.” He looks to Tyler with his last sentence, his smile softening a bit.

 

Tyler nods a little, fidgeting with the straps of the bag around his shoulder. Evan watches him, choosing to leave the conversation up to him now.

 

“I understand,” Tyler mumbles, an unsure tone to his voice. “I just... Do you really think he's safe that close to the crew? I mean, Anthony and Adam are as into crew life as we are. What if they track attention to the Ponsoby's?”

 

“Tyler, don't worry.” Sark stands up straight, his smile fading in the seriousness of Tyler's concern. “Anthony and Adam are great guys, and they've taken oaths to keep secrets from Craig. That means no crew talk, no talk about the stock, no dang-”

 

“Stock?” Tyler cuts him off, his eyes growing wide. Evan slaps his hand to his forehead, and Sark's mouth falls open, both of them speechless. _Great secret keeping, asshole,_ Evan thinks to himself. 

 

“Uh, yeah.” Scott rubs the back of his neck, clearing his throat nervously. “The Ponsoby's is where all the money is, and sometimes we keep- _Ahem_ \- inventory there. Coke, mostly. The shit you guys and the others go and 'confiscate' from the other gangs.”

 

The room became extremely tense, no one daring to move. Tyler stares at Sark with a mixture of emotions, gripping the strap of the bag tightly in his hand. Evan looks between them, trying to figure out how to break the silence. He knew all about the stock, but he was the only one who did other than Scott, Anthony and Adam. They planned on keeping it a secret from everyone, just in the hopes that no other crews or gangs would have any chance to find out. He's always felt guilty about not telling the others, and the guilt intensified tenfold once he found out about Craig being hired, but he couldn't bring himself to break Scott's oath.

 

Tyler finally takes a deep breath, nodding a little bit to Sark. 

 

“So, you think that having Craig work where the stock is is gonna work well?” He finally asks, sarcasm lacing his voice lightly. Sark shakes his head.

 

“It's not like that, Tyler,” Sark attempts to ease Tyler's mind, but the younger isn't having any of it.

 

“'Not like that'?? You seriously expect him to not catch onto the Crew while he's _two blocks from the fucking safehouse_??” 

 

“Tyler, please,” Evan finally butts in, hearing the anger begin to raise in Tyler's voice. “The decision has already been made and he's been working there for like two days, and Anthony and Adam are so far doing _really fucking good_ with keeping their identities up. Please trust this.”

 

Sark nods a bit, but Tyler shakes his head. 

 

“Two days isn't a long time, Evan. I trust those two, but you guys are storing shit we've _killed_ to get! Someone's bound to find it eventually, and if Craig is there when it happens-” Tyler cuts himself off, his voice beginning to crack near the end of his sentence. He snaps his mouth shut, keeping eye contact with Evan. His friend bites the inside of his lip, tapping his fingers on his leg gently. 

 

“Tyler,” He finally sighs. “That stock is perfectly safe. In fact, it's been there for what, six months? Adam an Anthony have been able to keep it safe, and the four of us-” Evan gestures between himself and Sark, his other hand gesturing towards the outside world, “-Have been able to keep it a secret from you guys until just now. Please, Tyler, just have faith in the fact that Anthony and Adam are going to keep Craig safe and away from crew activities as long as we need them to.”

 

Tyler rubs his forehead roughly, thinking over all the information he's been given. Evan chews on the inside of his lip, looking towards Sark. The older man is nervously tapping his fingers against the counter, studying Tyler's expressions. He can't help but fidget as he looks between the two, waiting for either of them to say anything. Evan can't begin to imagine how hard it is for Tyler, having to promise his lover that he isn't doing something that he's 100% totally doing. Ty has already complained about how the guilt constantly eats away at his mind, but now that Craig is just flowing closer to the Crew, he can't even begin to imagine the stress on Tyler's shoulders. 

 

“Fine.” Ty breaks the silence, shifting the bag to rest more comfortably. He isn't looking at either of them, but staring at the floor instead. Evan reaches over, rubbing his friends back affectionately. He nods a bit at the gesture, looking at Evan with worried eyes.

 

“As long as that kid is under the roof of one of my establishments,” Sark speaks up, his voice turning dead serious. “I promise to keep him safe to the best of my abilities.”

 

Tyler nods, mumbling an appreciative thanks. Evan turns to Sark, forcing a smile to try and relieve the tension. The shop owner's goofy smile returns, and he thrusts his hand out. Evan takes it, giving him a good few shakes. 

 

They exchange farewells once again, Evan picking up the case and waiting as Scott presses the hidden button once more, the doors clicking as they unlock. The pair wave on their way out, Tyler making sure to flip the metal sign back to “Open” as they exit. 

 

 

*: ･ﾟ✧ *: ･ﾟ✧ *: ･ﾟ✧ *: ･ﾟ✧ *: ･ﾟ✧ *: ･ﾟ✧ *: ･ﾟ✧ *: ･ﾟ

 

 

The ride back to the apartment was quiet, Tyler opting to listen to the radio the short drive home. Neither of the roommates were there, so Tyler and Evan took it upon themselves to neatly store the new weapons in the heist room shelves, fist bumping each other as they admired their luck. Evan decided he wanted the Sniper to stay near him, feeling a great affection towards the weapon, and stored it under his bed, case and all. 

 

Tyler didn't stay long at all, claiming he wanted to have a night with Craig tonight. Evan didn't blame him, he'd want a night to himself and partner if he found out the information Tyler had earlier. Evan contemplated getting another shower, but after remembering the events of this morning, he decided he'd like to keep his clothing on for a while longer.

 

After a while of arguing with himself, he decided on video games. He played for maybe an hour before Brock and Marcel got home, a bag of beer in one's hands, pizza in the others. Then, that was the rest of his night. He completely forgot about talking to Brock about earlier. He was too distracted in getting drunk and playing games with his roommates, forgetting all about the crew, all about Jonathan, all about the man he and Tyler saw at the Ammunation. For the rest of the night, he was having a genuinely good time, and he was feeling genuinely happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well wasn't that weird. past jonathan relations???? who's that guy at the ammunation??? whats up with all this deep relationship shit?????? is this gonna turn into a Vanoo fanfiction??????? let me know what you guys think!!
> 
> feel free to follow me on tumblr, http://gotthat-miniladddclutch.tumblr.com/ im an ok blogger lmao
> 
> hopefully this is as good as some of you guys are hoping ugh
> 
> see you guys whenever!!!!!!!


	3. The Big One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowza this took a lot of procrastination to complete but thank you for coming back haha
> 
> hopefully this is good for you guys, i promise next chapter is gonna be hella, i just needed some more build ups. 
> 
> ill have more notes at the end, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

Evan begins to stir in his sleep, his body beginning to feel too hot for comfort. There's a small shove against his leg and he groans a bit, rubbing his eyes tiredly. His head hurts, and he's sure it's from all the drinks from last night. He cracks his eyes open and immediately shuts them, being blinded by the sunlight coming through the Balcony doors. He's still delirious from sleep, and unable to remember when exactly he fell asleep last night.

 

A sudden loud snore makes him jump, and just as he's about to open his eyes, an arm lays across his face. He groans once more, pushing the arm down to his neck. He opens his eyes, squinting against the bright light, taking in his surroundings.

 

The T.V is still on, the screen showing different connection options and T.V settings. There are beer bottles scattered all over the coffee table, pizza boxes underneath it. He's laying on the couch, and squished up behind him is Brock, snoring a bit, arm still around Evan. Marcel is at the other end of the small couch, his legs tangled on Evan's, kicking and nudging him every once in a while, an xBox controller balanced on his stomach. Evan sighs and rubs at his eyes again, the pain in his head beginning to get unbearable.

 

Almost as if the universe despises him, his phone begins to ring loudly, vibrating against the couch violently. He jumps again, rolling himself off the couch and faceplanting onto the hardwood floor with a small groan. His phone is still ringing loud, stuck somewhere underneath the other two bodies. Brock stirs a bit, whining at Evan's feely hands as he tries to search underneath the other two. Brock reaches just under his back, feeling the annoying device vibrating against his skin, fishing it out and holding it out to Evan.

 

He takes it and mumbles a thanks, quickly silencing the ringing. He blinks a few times, trying to focus on the letters. Sark's name appears, and he groans again. Despite the massive headache, he taps the accept button.

 

“Hey,” He grumbles, yawn forcing itself through.

 

“Someone sounds sleepy,” Scott coos on the other end, chuckling lightly.

 

“Just woke up.”

 

“Ah, perfect! I have a job for you guys, and you can get some big bucks from it.”

 

Evan whines a bit into the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Hey, no whining from you. Not my fault you like to stay up all night, Mr. Night Owl.”

 

“You're a dick, I'm hungover.” Evan drags himself off the floor, stumbling into his room and straight to the bathroom, looking through the cabinets for some Ibuprofen, keeping the phone pinned between his shoulder and ear.

 

“Aww, Ev's grown up! Don't worry, the job isn't for another day. Just swing by with the rest of the crew and I'll tell you guys what you need to know.”

 

“Give us an hour, minimum.” They exchange goodbyes and Evan sighs with relief, taking the pills and cell phone back to the kitchen. He swallows down a few pills with some cold water before finishing the rest of the beverage, placing the glass in the sink and heading to the living room.

 

Marcel and Brock are still asleep by the looks of it, and Evan dreads having to wake them up soon. He sets the pills on the table quietly, sliding the boxes from under it and grabbing a few of the empty bottles, balancing them neatly in his arms. As he turns towards the kitchen, a hand shoots out and tucks itself into his pocket, stopping him in his tracks. He looks to see Brock holding him back, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

 

“I'll do it, Ev,” he grumbles, propping himself up.

 

“No,” Evan removes his hand. “Rest a bit longer, there's ibuprofen on the table if you need it.”

 

He moves to the kitchen and shoves the trash in the bin. He hears clacking of glass behind him and turns to see Brock gathering bottles, walking to where Evan stands and throwing them away. He squints at him, crossing his arms in an annoyed motion. Brock smirks at him a bit, returning to the table and picking up the remaining bottles.

 

“I didn't get as drunk as you two did. I'm just fine,” Brock mocked. Evan groans a bit, rubbing his temples lightly. He moves back o he kitchen, grabbing the glass from the sink and refilling it with water. After he gulps down the second cup, he and Brock retreat to their own room, giving Marcel a bit longer to rest.

 

The second Evan was in his room, he sinks himself into his bed, shoving his face into the pillows, basking in the plush feeling of his sheets. He cracks his eyes open just in time to see Brock throw himself onto his own bed, rolling up into his own blanket and face the window. Evan watches for a few moments, studying his friend as they stayed in silence.

 

Brock turns again and this time faces Evan, grabbing a extra pillow and hugging it to his body.

 

“Wanna call Ty, or me?”

 

“You, please.” Evan mumbles, closing his eyes and shoving his face into the plush object once again. “Just tell him we're gonna be there in like 45 minutes.”

 

He listens to the older man as he moves around, grabbing his cellphone and dialing Tyler. The conversation is short, Brock quickly explaining the situation and then Tyler agreeing to be ready. He doesn't realize that Brock's off the phone until he hears the bathroom door click closed.

 

He lays still for a few more moments, not wanting to leave the comfort of his bed. He hates going and doing jobs, it's getting dangerous, but it's paying well. Before thinking too much on the subject, he sits up, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to manage the messy strands. He takes advantage of his privacy to change into more casual clothing.

 

He and Brock both finish getting ready, and are even able to get Marcel up and ready. The three of them pile into Marcel's black Patriot, driving to a small corner store and picking up Tyler on the way before driving to Morningwood Blvd.

 

 

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

 

 

Evan fiddles with with his fingers mindlessly, listening as the other three friends joked quietly to each other in the back of Sark's shop. The owner is sure taking his sweet time to get ready, and Evan is very tempted to go out and see what's taking so long. Almost as if on queue, the oldest man steps through the doorway, black Aviators sitting on his nose.

 

“Had fun last night, I hear.” He glances at Evan, wiggling his eyebrows at him playfully.

 

“Maybe _they_ did,” Tyler huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling something about not being invited to anything.

 

“You wanted to go home, dude,” Evan counters, throwing his hands up to the sides in his defense. Tyler flips him off, earning a laugh from the other four.

 

“Yeah yeah, losers. It's time to get down to business.” Sark moves past them and to the table, grabbing the notepad that's laid there and taking a seat on the hard surface.

 

The other four move around him, Tyler and Marcel taking seats on the floor as if they were first graders about to get a new lesson.

 

“So, you know me, I'm suuuuper stuck up when it comes to details,” Sark rolls his eyes, sarcasm leaking from his pours. “so here are all the things you need to know. This is a pretty big deal, guys. There's going to be a case there, filled with cocaine. That's your target. The two gangs that are gonna be there are most likely heavily armed, and will do anything to make sure they get their deal straight.”

 

“This deal is going down in the LS Canal, right where the two drains connect. It's gonna be going down tomorrow night, just after 2 am. Gonna be at least 10 guys there, I'm not sure what gangs they belong to, so I'm not sure what to expect. Just be ready for a **very** hostile situation. I'm not sure how they're going to pull this deal off, so you guys are gonna have to come up with a quick plan right then and there.”

 

“I'm giving you guys something cheap and small, I'm not sure if it's going to help in any way, but it's good to be prepared for anything.” He reaches behind him, picking up a small tube with a ring off of the table. “Simple smoke bombs. These will give you guys some good cover if need be, and this can be fatal to those guys if they breath too much in. Which reminds me, try not to get caught up wherever you guys throw this.” He sets the tube down, studying their faces for a moment. “Questions?”

 

Marcel raises his hand a bit.

 

“How much coke are we talking? If it's a briefcase, that's a lot, right?”

 

Scott shrugs his shoulders, leaning back and using his hand as a balance.

 

“Didn't ask. I figure it's easier for you guys to just get in there, get what you need and get paid. All I know is it's a lot.”

 

“How much are we getting paid?” Marcel speaks again.

 

“He said somewhere around 20k.”

 

Evan smiles wide, making eye contact with a smirking Brock. Tyler and Marcel make a series of excited squeaks to each other, resulting in Sark rolling his eyes at their shenanigans. Sark passes the bombs to Brock, giving him a small bag to carry them in. The four of them go over the little details once more, and then proceed to leave the shop once again, heading back to Evan's apartment.

 

The entire way back, Tyler and Marcel constantly talk to each other about the things they might do with the money they're gonna get. Evan can't help but smile at the enthusiasm of the other two in the front seats, because lord knows he'd like to be as excited as them. He's nervous, in all honesty. He wants to puke along with every thought that crosses his mind. His worry doesn't go unnoticed, and as they're pulling into the apartment, Brock reaches over and gives Evan a light pat on the shoulder. Brock looks concerned to say the least, and Evan knows he'll have to tell Brock about his thoughts later.

 

The four of them make their way up to the shared space, Brock heading straight to the planning room and storing away the two bombs. Tyler and Marcel set up fort on the couch, watching as Evan crosses the living room and stands out on the balcony. They've never had to improvise a job before, and the thought of them messing up haunts his thoughts.

 

He stares at the city below him, watching as the sun begins to set below the horizon. Footsteps draw his attention and he turns a bit, seeing Brock standing just inside the sliding door. He looks relatively happy, but his eyes are shadowed by concern. Evan waves a bit and turns back to the railing, listening as Brock closes the door and steps close beside him. They both stand quietly for a few moments, feeling the wind push against their skin.

 

“I have a bad feeling, Brock,” Evan breaks the silence, wanting to get the talking over with.

 

“About the job?” The older turns to face him, and Evan nods a bit.

 

“I don't know exactly what. But I'm just so terrified of doing this job.”

 

Evan chews on his lip, and the other turns his attention back to the city. They both think silently for a moment.

 

“Do you want to tell Sark we can't?”

 

Evan shakes his head, standing up a bit straighter. They all need this money, he can't have them back out just because he's feeling doubtful. Brock nods to him, nudging Evan's arm with his own lightly.

 

“Don't think too much about the consequences, or that's all you'll see,” Brock says, earning an embarrassed laugh from the younger.

 

“I'll stab you, kid.”

 

Loud banging on the glass door behind them draws their attention. Marcel is standing their, waving at them through the glass. He slides the door open, a huge smile on his face.

 

“Once you two are done being super gay, we need to pile up in here and talk about food. I'm fucking hungry.”

 

Brock's eyes light up at the idea and he turns towards Marcel, grinning a bit.

 

“We'll be in in a second. Don't order anything without me!” He says as Marcel slides the door closed again, jumping back onto the couch with Tyler.

 

Evan's face felt hotter at the mention of having a “Super Gay” moment with Brock, though he isn't quite sure why. He fiddles with his hands and agrees with Brock nonetheless, continuing to stare out at the city. He feels Brock staring at him, and he begins to chew on the inside of his lip. Neither of them say anything for a few moments until Brock tugs on his arm lightly.

 

“Food, c'mon.” He says.

 

Evan rolls his eyes but still follows him inside, taking a seat on the floor as the other three situate themselves across the couch. After nonstop arguing and a few flying pillows, the crew decides on a dinner of takeout, Tyler ordering from their usual place as the others set up the xBox.

 

Even with the Chinese food in his stomach and his friends by his side, Evan can't push away the feeling of dread and hesitance that continues to bubble through his gut as the good night passes. Brock, of course, has taken notice. Hence the reason that the two of them have taken their place at Marcel and Tyler's feet, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the hardwood floor. Evan doesn't want to talk about the gross feelings he has anymore, it's beginning to be too much for him to be comfortable with telling Brock.

 

Though, the more time that passes, the more the other two begin to notice Evan's short laughs and the lack of jokes.

 

“Dude, spill it,” Marcel says, tossing the controller down.

 

Evan's taken aback, and as the three stare at him for an answer, he feels like it's he only choice he has. With a deep breath, he gives it to them as simple as possible.

 

“I'm scared.”

 

“For tomorrow?” Marcel speaks again. Evan nods to him.

 

“Dude, I've shit my pants like 3 times thinking about going tomorrow,” Tyler pipes up. “You're not alone.”

 

Evan scrunches up his nose a bit. “I just have a really bad feeling about going tomorrow, kay?”

 

“What if us three went and you stayed?” Brock suggests. Evan quickly shakes his head.

 

“Hell no. I'm not letting you three risk your lives while I sit around and be scared.”

 

Brock opens his mouth to say something, but Evan cuts him off.

 

“We're all going. Money is fantastic. I'm just being paranoid right now. Everything will go smooth as butter, dudes, you just watch. Now stop making me feel weird, shit.” He huffs. Marcel rolls his eyes and drops the subject, picking up his controller and continuing the game with Tyler. Evan's thankful that they've dropped the subject, though the glances Brock gives him every now and then aren't as subtle as the other hopes.

 

In not too long, Evan's barely able to keep his eyes open, and the more he tries to force himself to stay awake the heavier his lids become. With a small wave, Evan retreats to his own room, curling himself under his blanket in the dark room. He stares past Brock's bed and through the window, watching the clouds move across the moon and stars. He isn't aware that he's drifting off until he hears the soft click of the bedroom door, and he opens his eyes and watches as Brock curls himself up in his own bed.

 

The older turns towards him and smiles once he notices Evan's open eyes, the both of them exchanging small waves with one another before turning opposite ways. Somehow, the fact that Brock is in the room with him makes it much easier for Evan to find comfort in closing his eyes, and he finds himself falling into a much needed heavy sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :000 yay a job how fun! i wonder if evan's bad feelings mean something............... o.0
> 
> I'll try to get my next chapter out as soon as it's completed, but it may take a while because it's gonna be hella active. just stay tuned it'll be slightly ok ^3^
> 
> see you guys next time and thank you so much for reading! <33


	4. The Actual Big One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thissssssssssssssssss took about like 8 years but fear not here it is. it's poorly edited, i kind of rushed it a bit hahaaaaaaaaaa sorry ill fix it at some point if theres any major frickups. 
> 
> theres some bloooood in this chapter as well as the smoking of the marijuanas ha sorry if that offends. 
> 
> there will probably be a note at the end, and as always, i hope ye enjoyyyyyyyy :3

Evan sits up quickly for maybe the third time that night. His breathing is coming in short pants and a thin layer of sweat covers his forehead. He knows he had nightmares, but he can't recall any actual details from them.

 

He glances to the other bed and is relieved to see Brock still soundlessly asleep. Evan folds his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around them, resting his forehead on his knees. God, he's so tired, but the apparent nightmares are making his tasks hard. He contemplates choking down some melatonin, but decides it might make him too tired for the rest of the day and drops the idea.

 

Evan stays that was for a good few minutes, trying to find any sort of sleep to continue clinging onto. With no luck, he slowly slides out of bed, slipping some slippers onto his feet and heading quietly out to the living room. Marcel is sprawled out on the couch, arm draped over his face, and Evan can't help but smile at the silly sight.

 

He sneaks out of the apartment and heads to his car on the curb. The air is nice and the sun has yet to rise above the horizon, making it the perfect time for Evan to have his own chill time. Getting comfortable in his car, he drives himself out to Del Perro Beach, parking on an empty area of sand and sitting on the hood of the car, staring at the waves that hit the shore.

 

Everything sounds so quiet, aside from the soothing sound of the water. Evan closes his eyes, soaking in the cool breeze and moonlight, finding himself feeling fairly relaxed. His head is finally clear of any worries for later, and he feels a wave of relief wash over him. But even after feeling better, he doesn't particularly jump all over the chance to take the good mood home. It's still far too early for either of the others to be awake. Besides, having a nice time outside and by himself is feeling great so far.

 

Slowly, he leans back against the windshield of his car, arms resting behind his head. Evan stares at the sky for a while, passing some time by counting as many stars as he can until his eyes eventually shut. For a bit, he just lays there and rests, focusing on the sounds of the water once more.

 

He doesn't realize how fast he drifted off to sleep until the loud sound of his ringtone begins to play, jerking him from his dormant state. He rips his eyes open to find that the stars are much more scarce, and the sky has shifted to blues and pinks as the sun rises. Quickly, he digs his phone from his pocket, swiping across the phone screen multiple times before finally accepting the call.

 

“Hello?” He says, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

 

“Where are you?” Brock's voice urgently answers.

 

“Del Perro. What's wrong?” A relieved sigh comes through the phone. Evan wrinkles his nose in confusion.

 

“Dude, leave a note or something next time you leave all early like that. Scared the shit out of me.”

 

“Yes, _mom_ ,” Evan laughs.

 

“Hey, I texted you like three times and you didn't answer. I got worried, dick.”

 

“I was asleep apparently. Sorry, Moo. I'm on my way back anyway. Starving,” Evan replies, earning a noise of agreement from Brock.

 

Evan hangs up the phone, walking to the drivers side of his car and tossing the device onto the passenger's seat. He hops into the car, wiping as much of the sand off his slippers as he can before getting comfortable in his seat and speeding off the sand and back to the road.

 

The drive back is quick with the lack of cars on the road, something Evan is mildly thankful for. As the elevator opens on his floor, he notices a muffled singing in the hallway, the scent of food very faint in his nose. The sounds and smells get stronger the closer he moves to the apartment door, and as he opens the door, he's slapped in the face with the other three's off-key singing to a random song on the radio and the overwhelming smell of various breakfast foods. He stares as the other three goof off, unable to help the smile that spreads across his face. Brock is the first to notice his return and waves at him, spatula in hand.

 

“Welcome home!” He hollers over the music, drawing the attention of the other two. They wave at Evan as well, and he returns the gesture, closing the door and locking it.

 

“You guys are honestly the lamest,” Evan tells them, crossing the dining room and walking into the kitchen.

 

“Be nice too the people who feed you, Evan,” Marcel says, scooting past Brock and stirring the eggs cooking on the stove.

 

“Why _are_ you guys cooking like dweebs anyway?” Evan asks, swiping a piece of bacon from a large stack, Tyler swatting at his hand rapidly.

 

“Can't we all just have a nice breakfast together for no reason?” Says Brock, jokingly pouting as he places a few fresh pancakes on a large stack of previously finished ones. Evan rolls his eyes.

 

“Well, give me something to do. I want to contribute.”

 

“You can make us some coffee, since everything else is pretty much finished,” Answers Marcel, his foot tapping as he continues to fry the eggs. Evan nods, slipping behind Brock and gathering the necessary things from the cabinet before moving to an empty space on he counter and setting up the coffee pot.

 

He sets up the machine to make enough for each of them to have a cup and even extra, then he stands back, leaning against the counter as he watches the coffee pot. He just stares for a few moments at it, his mind going completely void of any thoughts. The talking and music around him dulls until all he's focusing on is the drops of water falling into the coffee pot. In all honesty, he doesn't _try_ to zone out, it just happens. Until Tyler takes notice.

 

“Dude,” Tyler speaks. No response.

 

“ _Dude_.” Again, no response.

 

Tyler picks up a warm piece of Bacon from the large plate, holding it right in front of Evan's face and waving it around, hitting him in the nose repeatedly. The dark haired man scrunches his nose up a bit and leans back, not registering what's being waved around. Once he realizes the weapon is just a bacon slice, he snaps it between his teeth and out of Tyler's hand, using a finger to shove whatever bits are stuck out between his lips into his mouth.

 

“Now we know if Evan's ever in a trance, just wave your meat in his face,” Tyler jokes. Evan laughs through the mouthful, Brock and Marcel giggling with him. Tyler pats his shoulder, giving him a friendly squeeze.

 

“Sorry 'bout that,” Evan swallows the food. “Coffee is apparently _really interesting.”_

 

Evan shakes his head a bit, watching as the other three finish their tasks and plate the finished food. Evan gathers a few coffee mugs, pouring coffee into each of them and setting out whatever creamers and sugar they had around for each of them to make the coffee how they prefer. Evan himself pours a few spoonfuls of cream into his before taking his cup, slipping out of the kitchen and waiting as the others make their cups.

 

They all take places on the couch aside from Evan, who sits crosslegged on the floor to use the coffee table as his own. The four of them eat silently, eyes glued to the morning cartoons. None of them liked watching the news, and a majority of the other channels were just utter bullshit, but _everyone_ loves Spongebob.

 

It doesn't take Evan long to finish the food because _jesus_ the food is practically orgasmic. He chugs a bit of his coffee, nodding in thanks as Marcel gathers Evan's and his own empty plates and leaving them in the sink. Tyler and Brock finish after a while, and the four continue to watch cartoons for a bit longer, until the thoughts of the job begin to creep up on Evan.

 

Once the episode is over, Evan sighs loudly and stands, cup in hand.

 

“We have a few things to do for tonight, so if you guys are ready, we can start setting up.”

 

The other three give sounds of agreement and Evan nods, watching as Brock searches around the couch for the remote and turning off the T.V.

 

“Okay, one thing we need is a getaway car, one that we're gonna keep in that fenced in area just next to the Canal intersection. Four door, something we can look fairly normal in,” He takes another sip of the coffee. “Once we have the car, Sark will give us a meet up place. Anyone wanna just take care of that right off the bat?”

 

Tyler volunteers and everyone silently agrees, Evan mentally checking that off his checklist.

 

“Body armor needs to be picked up,” Marcel nods and Evan checks it off his checklist. He glances at he clock and thinks for a moment.

 

“It's almost noon, so lets get at least the whole car thing out of the way.”

 

Tyler grabs his shoes and jacket, quietly dressing himself and heading out the door. Evan thinks for a moment, chugging down the rest of his coffee. Marcel grabs his own phone and dials a few numbers, pacing the kitchen as he sets up a small meet up with Sark for the armor they need. Evan moves himself into the heist room, taking a seat in front of the display of their masks and folded heist clothes, tapping his foot as he stares at his own Owl mask. He's not as nervous as he was before, but his jitters are still there.

 

It's about 45 minutes later when Evan receives a text from Tyler, telling him the car has been collected and the license plates have been taped over. Evan dials Sark's number.

 

“We have the car, where's the meet up?” Evan asks once Sark answers.

 

“Murrietta Oil Rig, go ahead and have your own car waiting at the Scrapyard. Once the deal is done, meet me here and we'll switch cars,” He replies, the grin obvious in his voice. Evan relays the message to Tyler and sends Marcel to the Ammunation, making his way to the balcony where Brock stands. He turns to watch as Evan comes to his side, smiling to his boss.

 

“Everything ready?” Says Brock.

 

“Just about.”

 

They exchange a fist bump together, Evan staring at the city below them once again.

 

 

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

 

 

The four crew members lean against the stolen car behind them, Marcel and Tyler talking quietly to each other as if they weren't about to just commit murder. Evan glances through the flimsy metal fence ahead of him, staring down at the empty canal intersection. His stomach flips as he grips his owl mask tighter between his fingers, and he doesn't have to look at the clock to know the time is almost here.

 

A hand quickly tugs at Evan's arm, bringing him from his thoughts. He looks to see the Eagle mask of Brock next to him, looking down into the Canal.

 

“They're here,” He says to Evan, hinting for the others to get ready. The younger checks to make sure his ear piece is on before sliding the mask onto his head, shifting it quickly as the engines creep closer.

 

They wait a few moments more until it seems there are no more visitors arriving, and Evan takes in the scene. From one end of the canal came two large SUV's, neither of which with license plates, carrying a total of 6 people. From the other end came a smaller SUV along with a Buccaneer, neither with licenses either, and only carrying 4 people. They all seem to be talking to each other casually, and Evan takes the chance to plan his attack.

 

“Okay,” He fidgets with the Sniper Case next to him as the others shuffle closer around him. “Wildcat, Basically, I want you two climbing down into this smaller drain here-” he points to their left “-and wait on the ground out of sight for my signal. Got your headsets?”

 

The Pig and Monkey masks nod.

 

“Good. Moo, you stay up here, and when I say so, give 'em a smoke bomb and take out whoever you can, and be prepared to drive. Can you do that?”

 

“I can do whatever you need me to,” He answers, and Evan pats his shoulder.

 

“I'm gonna set up on that bridge there,” Evan nods to the walkway to their right, opening the sniper case and retrieving his weapon. “No shooting until my signal unless you get seen. Ready?”

 

The four of them give small wishes of good luck before Evan peels away from them, Sniper strapped securely across his back as he dashes quietly for the walkway, hopping over the locked gate and positioning himself in the middle of the walkway. He looks forward and is relieved that he can see the entire deal from his vantage point and even Moo, taking the strap from around his shoulders. He slips his hand into his mask, pressing the small button on his earpiece before speaking.

 

“Everyone ready?”

 

The sounds of agreement fill Evan's ear as he stares at the deal, watching two of the men stand in the center of everyone and talk to each other. Evan's about to ask if any of them have eyes on the case when said target is pulled from one of the first two SUV's and placed next to the Brunette in front of them. Evan sets the rifle up on the railing, peering through the scope and taking aim at the gang member nearest to him. Then, before he realizes it, his lips are moving.

 

“Smoke 'em, Moo.”

 

With that, a small object lands almost directly in the center of the deal, blasting out a thick fog as all hell breaks loose. A majority of the people near the bomb are covered in smoke, and before it gets too thick, Evan pulls the trigger on the man he was aiming at, watching as the bullet sinks into the back of his skull and cover the Buccaneer's door with blood and chunks of flesh.

 

His stomach turns, staring at the body through his scope. He was a human, just like him, and Evan is his murderer. For all he knows he just took away a kids father, a woman's husband, a man's favorite son, all for drugs. He takes aim at another man, watching as he tries to take cover behind an SUV and blindly fires at Brock.

 

“Wildcat, Basically, get in there!” Evan hollers into the earpiece, pulling the trigger once again, hitting the second guy somewhere in the chest. He stares for a moment at the limp body, and seeing no movement, he moves the gun from his face.

 

The scene is crazy. With all the smoke, the gang members were falling, coughing their lungs out, rubbing at their burning eyes, unable to protect themselves from Brock's bullets. Marcel and Tyler turn the corner, Assault Rifles blazing. The smoke mostly clears, and everything is quiet.

 

“Wildcat, can you get the case?” Vanoss asks, and as he looks through the scope, his heart sinks.

 

_Where's the case?_

 

“Where is it?” Basically panics.

 

“The Buccaneer!” Moo's voice yells in their ears. “Someone's getting away!”

 

Evan takes his eyes from the scope in time to watch the lights of the vehicle turn on, tires squealing drifting against the concrete.

 

“Wildcat!” Evan yells.

 

“Get the tires!” Wildcat replies, throwing himself into one of the SUV's. The keys were luckily in the ignition, and Wildcat stomps on the gas, following the car down the canal.

 

It's not long before Evan manages to get a blind shot on the back tire of the muscle car, silently praising himself as the vehicle swerves.

 

Wildcat quickly catches up, front bumper just passing the car's back bumper. Tyler swerves toward the Buccaneer, clipping the back of it as both vehicles lose control.

 

The muscle car smashes into a concrete barrier, completely flipping over it and rolling across the Canal, stopping on it's roof. The SUV T-bones into the same barrier, crushing into the drivers side and sending the vehicle to the edge of the Canal, then silence.

 

Evan's already climbed from the walkway, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he resists panicking, sprinting to the SUV. He calls through the earpiece for Wildcat until his voice is hoarse, and the silence carries his legs even faster. He doesn't realize he's giving orders until he bites his tongue.

 

“Moo, get to the car and get the case, and make sure that guy is dead!”

 

Finally, he comes within a few yards of the vehicle, running to the drivers side as he yells for Wildcat. The back door is completely smashed in, the wheels on the left no longer lining up with the other two. Tyler is leaned over, mask in his lap, head in his hands. He's alive, and Evan could cry tears of joy if they weren't potentially being tracked down at the moment.

 

“Wildcat, man, are you okay?” He asks breathlessly, strapping his gun across his back and pulling the drivers door until it rips from it's place as Marcel runs up to join him.

 

“Yeah,” He groans, lifting his head from his hands to reveal a large gash just above his left eyebrow, a few scrapes on his arms from the shattered glass. Evan hisses through his teeth, sliding his gun to the ground and removing his jacket.

 

“Basically, help him walk, keep this over his head. He can't wear a mask.”

 

Marcel helps Tyler from the vehicle, allowing him to get Tyler's arm around his shoulders for stability. Evan gently drapes the Jacket over Tyler's head, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder before the two of them head back to the stolen car. Evan turns to the Muscle car, grabbing a hold of the discarded Pig mask, watching as Brock jogs toward him, case in hand.

 

“Guy called backup, we need to leave,” The Eagle says, and the both of them rush quickly to the car. The two jump in the front seats as the sirens begin to creep closer, and Brock carefully drives them through as many alley ways as he can until he's a good few blocks from the Canal. They all remove their masks and lean back, Marcel silently using a few spare napkins stored in the car to clean the blood from Tyler's head.

 

The entire way to the oil rig was quiet, but for Evan, his mind is screaming at him. Tyler could have easily lost his life today, and the thought of that almost makes Evan puke. It was too close of a call, and Evan silently agrees to himself that they aren't accepting any more jobs unless they have ample details. He can't risk that happening, not again.

 

Once they arrive at the rig, Brock slowly drives them to the scrapyard, parking the car next to where Marcel's Patriot sits in the shadows. Marcel helps Tyler into the next vehicle as Brock takes Evan's Rifle and case, placing it in the trunk. Evan looks around and is relieved to see Sark heading to him, cigarette between his lips, smile large across his face.

 

“Good work. Come by tomorrow, half the cash, and I'll wire the rest.” He and Evan shake hands, Evan watching as Sark hops into the stolen car and pulls off slowly. The other three are comfortably sat in the Patriot, Tyler chugging the water from a bottle quickly. He climbs in the back with Tyler, smiling when Tyler greets him.

 

The drive home is fairly silent, most of them opting to rest a bit from their intense adrenaline rush. They all pretty much crash the moment they get home, Tyler, Marcel and Brock sprawled out on the couch as Evan lays across the floor. The room slips into a comfortable silence, until Tyler speaks up.

 

“So, I know I almost just died and stuff,” He sits up a bit. “But I got us a present from that SUV.”

 

The other three turn their attention to Tyler as the other pulls a palm sized baggy from his pocket, tossing it on the table. The smell of weed slaps Evan in he face and Marcel squeals.

 

“You're seriously gonna smoke something you know nothing about?” Evan asks. Tyler thinks for a moment before nodding, grabbing the baggy and looking through it.

 

“Marcel and I will _test_ it out, how about that?” Tyler wiggles his eyebrows and Evan rolls his eyes. Brock and Evan watch as Tyler and Marcel prance away to the shared bedroom, raiding the closet for Evan's stored bong. Evan has to admit, the idea of getting high does interest him, but the ache of his muscles and the tired droop of his eyes annoy him to he point of just wanting to go straight to bed. Evan yawns loudly, and Brock nudges him lightly with his foot.

 

“Go to bed, Ev. We'll be quiet,” He says, and Evan silently agrees, dragging himself to his feet and heading to his bedroom. Marcel backs out of the closet, bong in hand, and Tyler and him nod to Evan, bidding him small goodnights as they slip from the room.

 

He slides out of his pants and shirt, sliding on some basketball shorts and crawling under his blanket slowly. The sheets and blanket swallow him and he quickly falls asleep, hugging a pillow tight into his chest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruhhhhhhh sorry if that was hella bad?????????? hope you liked it, ill do my hardest not to procrastinate as hardcore on the next chapter as i did this one,,,,,,, <333333


	5. He's onto it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are againnnnnnnn my old friendssssssss--
> 
> this is a fairly long chapter, but sadly it's kinda a filler. at least theres a couple of new characters??????? also i wouldn't be surprised if the sixth chapter is released tomorrow. I'm currently house-sitting, so im gonna be alone with nothing to do all weekend but write. aint that boutta biotch.
> 
> thanks for coming back, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

It feels entirely too early for Evan to be awake, but the sun blinding him through the bedroom window annoys him too much for sleep, resulting in a grumpy Evan dragging himself out of his bed and straight to the shared bathroom. On his way out he doesn't bother with a shirt, deciding his shorts are all he really needs to venture into the rest of the apartment.

 

The minute he's outside his bedroom door he hears light chit chat from beyond the hallway, and it's not until he turns the corner into the living room that he recognizes who it is. Sitting at the dining room table is Tyler, bowl of fruit loops in front of him, phone propped up on the “decorative” centerpiece Evan absolutely despises (for no good reason really, it's just **really** fucking ugly.) The voice from the phone is one he immediately identifies as Craig, and Evan can't help but eavesdrop as he walks to the kitchen.

 

“-just can't stop thinking about the news, Ty,” Craig murmurs. “It was so weird and bloody and just...” He trails off.

 

“The gang thing? I told you you shouldn't watch shit like that. You'll scare yourself,” Tyler scolds. Craig snorts.

 

“Don't watch the news? Good one. It's whatever, though. I just can't stop thinking, like.... That could've been us, Ty.” Tyler hesitates for a moment before taking another bite, still listening. “Like, if we didn't quit all that gang shit, we could've gotten caught up in some kind of fuckin' gun shit car fight in a fucking storm drain and you and Evan and Marcel-”

 

“Craig!” Tyler cuts him off and Craig is silent. “Stop thinking about all that, alright? You're going to be alright, and so are we. No one is doing anything illegal here anytime soon, and if we were, we'd at least tell you, okay?”

 

There was silence, but Tyler nods to the phone, and Evan realizes the two are video chatting. Something about it makes Evan uneasy, but he continues to prepare the coffee nonetheless, subtly trying to hurry the process.

 

“Ty, jeez, what happened to your head?”

 

Both Tyler and Evan falter in their actions.

 

Tyler shakes his head a bit, and says, “Marcel and I were doing some BMX tricks. I fell and ate shit of course.”

 

“Really?” Craig pushes.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Tyler sighs, taking another bite of his cereal and failing to look up from the table. Evan wants to puke.

 

It's silent for a long time, leading Evan to believe that Craig has hung up until the Brit speaks up again.

 

“Is that Ev back there?” Craig questions. Tyler nods and shifts in the chair, giving Craig a better view of the Kitchen and of Evan. “Shirtless Evan, too.”

 

“Just woke up,” He calls to the dining room, bringing his coffee mug with him to stand next to Tyler. “How are you, dude?”

 

“Ponsoby's gets busy, I'm fuckin' tired. How's the carwash? Working the others to death?”

 

Evan forces a small laugh and agrees with the lie, taking a drink of coffee while Craig is busy giggling. He hates lying to Craig more than the fucking “decorative” centerpiece, and every lie about the made-up carwash that spills from Evan's lips bring him closer and closer to losing his god damned mind. Granted, Craig isn't his boyfriend or anything, but to Evan, It doesn't matter. Craig trusts the four, and the second he finds out they're Banana Bus, any hopes of forgiveness or friendship from the younger will be thrown into a big pile of fire and dicks, never to be seen again.

 

And it's just. Not. Right.

 

“You guys need to visit me,” The Brit mentions pitifully. “I haven't seen you guys in weeks.”

 

“You've seen me!” Tyler whines childishly.

 

“You're my boyfriend, I have to _live_ with you most of the time.”

 

Evan and Craig share a laugh at the comical jaw drop of Tyler. Craig glances to his watch and almost drops his phone.

 

“Shit! I'm about to be late. Love you Ty, see ya Evan!”

 

Tyler is barely able to call out an “I love you, too” before Craig ends the call. Evan sighs a bit and Tyler rubs his temples with a low groan.

 

“He fucking knows so hard, dude,” Tyler croaks. “About the crew and everything. Shit, dude. _Shit._ ”

 

“Ty,” Evan sighs softly again. “We don't know if he knows for sure. Let's just... I don't know, try not to bring any attention to Banana Bus with him.”

 

Tyler scoffs a bit and takes another bite, resting his head on the palm of his free hand. He looks so sad, and Evan's never seen that kind of hurt expression cross Tyler in their years of friendship. He offers Tyler a light pat on the shoulder, and the other nods lightly in appreciation.

 

“What's today's plans?” Tyler asks after finishing the milk in his bowl. Evan takes a seat at the table with him.

 

“Well, we gotta go get our pay from Sark once Ammu opens, then I suppose go visit Craig when he's off work.”

 

Tyler nods. “Are we all going?”

 

“Maybe not to Sark's, but definitely to see Craig.”

 

“Well, if you need someone to go see Sark with you, I'll come with.”

 

Evan nods to him and takes another large drink of his coffee, resisting the urge to shiver as the warmth in his tummy. He looks to the living room and his red jacket catches his eye, draped over the arm of the couch. He doesn't even remember taking it off, in all honesty, but he just shrugs it off.

 

Evan soon finishes his coffee in silence as Tyler scrolls through his phone, and small sounds of someones feet padding against the floor behind him draw his attention. Brock waves tiredly to the two, mumbling a small greeting.

 

“Coffee in the pot,” Evan mentions, holding up his now empty cup. Brock drags himself past the two, taking Evan's mug to the kitchen and refilling it with his own coffee mixture. There's a sudden loud snore, and the three are reminded of Marcel's presence on the couch. Tyler begins giggling.  
  
“Dude he was stoned as shit last night it was the best fucking thing,” He laughs. Evan rolls his eyes.

 

“Glad you two didn't die from that shit,” Evan tells him.

  
  
“It felt like it, dude. We fell asleep so hard.”

 

“ _After_ searching for your phone for about 30 minutes just to find out it was in your hand the entire time,” Brock sleepily jokes.

 

“I didn't know!” Tyler whines.

 

“You used it as a flashlight to find your phone!”

 

Evan loses it, laughing loudly at the two. Tyler laughs a bit and rubs his face, shaking his head a bit.

“Go fuck yourself, it was good weed, dude.”

 

Evan moves into the living room quietly, sitting on the floor in front of the couch. Marcel only shifts behind him but continues lightly snoring the morning away. Tyler and Brock begin talking, but Evan turns his attention to turning on the TV instead of listening to them. The screen flashes with the Los Santos news, and Evan can't peel his eyes away.

 

“-around 3 am this morning of an apparent Drug Deal Gone Wrong,” The news Woman speaks, pictures of the aftermath in the storm drain showing next to her. “There were 7 fatalities, who's names have not yet been released to the media. It's hard to tell exactly what happened, though LSPD are suspecting there _may have_ been others involved. Let me turn this over to our field correspondent-”

 

Evan just stares at the screen, completely speechless.

 

_There were more than seven gang members there._

 

“Evan,” Brock says harshly next to the younger with a small shake of his shoulder. Evan looks to him and can't help the small flash of fear that crosses his face. Brock sits next to him and sets his coffee mug gently on the coffee table. “Evan, you dazed again. What's up?”

 

“There were 10 people there,” Evan tells him. “I counted twice, I _know_ there were ten!” He runs his fingers through his hair. Brock stares at him with question for a moment before looking at the TV for a few moments. Slowly, it dawns on Brock as well.

 

“Wait, you don't think some of them lived and got away, do you?” The older asks. Evan stands quickly and nods, beginning to pace a bit around the living room.

 

“I thought we killed them all. Oh, _fuck_ , dude.. Shit, what if that backfires, man?” Evan asks rapidly. Tyler moves to the living room and right to Evan, trying to stop the pacing man from moving with a firm grip on his shoulder.

 

“Dude, chill. You're gonna give yourself a fuckin' panic.” Evan glares at him and shrugs his hand off harshly, walking to the balcony door and peering out. “What's your deal, Evan?”

 

“I... Don't know,” He answers, pressing his forehead against the glass. “What if they call for revenge?”

 

“They won't call for revenge, they probably don't even know it was us,” Brock answers, poking the side of the coffee mug. “Besides, how would they even find us?”

 

Evan shakes his head. “It doesn't matter _how_ , Brock. If they can, they will.”

 

“We don't even know what gangs were involved, Evan, for fucks sake.” Tyler rubs his forehead in irritation, avoiding his injury. “For all we know, they're just-”

 

“We don't know anything about them, Tyler!” Evan snaps at him, and immediately shrinks back a bit. Tyler just stares at him for a moment, but says nothing. The room falls into a tense silence, and Evan's hand mindlessly begins to tap on the balcony door.

 

Brock looks between them and slowly stands, rubbing the back of his neck. Tyler shrugs to Evan as if he's expecting something more. Evan feels awful for yelling at Tyler, and feels even worse at the mixed expression of irritation and expectation of the other.

 

Evan needs to leave.

 

“Sorry, Ty,” Evan mumbles, moving to quickly slip past the other to his room. The second he's there, his phone begins to ring.

 

Evan knows Sark is on the other end, but he can't bring himself to actually answer it. Instead, he climbs onto Brock's bed, moving to the edge near the window and silently staring out. So many thoughts are racing through his mind, and none of them agree with each other. The more he tries to convince himself that nothing would come of it, the more he comes up with different outcomes, none of which are too particularly fun to him.

 

The bed dips lightly behind him and he turns his head just a bit, watching as Brock climbs into the bed and sits behind him, back to him. Evan leans back just a bit, using Brock as a backrest, and the other lets out a small chuckle.

 

“Sark called twice. Did you ignore it or not hear it?” The older asks.

 

“Twice?” Evan replies. “I only heard one.”

 

“Daydreamer.” Evan can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes him grin a bit.

 

“I didn't mean to get weird,” The younger mentions. Brock only shakes his head, reaching an arm back and patting Evan's head. He rolls his eyes a bit. “Call Sark please. I think it's time to get paid.”

 

 

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

 

 

Evan and Brock walk through the Ammunation doors and are met with the loud voice of none other, than-

 

“Adam!” Sark says loudly from behind the counter. The man in front of him crosses his arms and huffs, turning to Evan and Brock, giving a small wave.

 

“Are we interrupting?” Evan asks cautiously, stepping beside Adam and giving him a pat on the shoulder. Sark shakes his head.

 

“Just discussing Craig business,” Sark answers.

 

“Business you're being a dick about,” Adam mumbles, earning a groan from the oldest.

 

“Adam, I don't know how to help.”

 

“Sark, I'm already tired of trying to keep that kid out of the storage room! I like him to death but I can only do so much! So it's either move stock, fire him or tell him everything, is what I'm trying to say,” Adam replies, placing his hands on the glass. Sark rubs his face with his gloved hands, groaning a bit.

 

“Move stock?” He asks. Adam nods. “Just where exactly, Adam?”

 

“Cypress Flats Ammunation?” Adam offers. “Place is barely used, and no one's gonna suspect it being there.”

 

Sark thinks for a long while, and everyone waits patiently. Evan looks to Brock, and the older steps closer to stand next to him, shoulder to shoulder. Evan thinks about it for a moment, and suddenly realizes how thankful he should be that he brought along Brock rather that Tyler.

 

“Fine,” Sark gives in. “Get the place ready, I'll have Anthony take it in a few days. He needs escorts, though, just in case.”

 

“We'll help with that,” Evan speaks up. “Marcel and I can drive him up there.”

 

Sark nods to him. “Yes, please, thank you Evan.” He looks at Adam again and they give each other a parting handshake. “Make sure the shit can get hidden well, Adam. Seriously.”

 

Adam nods, giving small fist bumps to the other two before flipping the door sign and exiting the building. Sark presses the button and rubs his temples.

 

“Fucking Seananners...” The oldest mumbles, getting a smile from Evan. “Can't just suck it up for more than a week.”

 

Evan shrugs a bit to him, looking back at the front doors, then to Sark again. “When are you planning for us to escort?”

 

“Probably in two days. I'm getting a shipment, so people bringing in a few boxes shouldn't look too strange.” Scott reaches down beside him and pulls up a drawstring backpack, handing it over to Brock. “There's your cash half. Rest of the money should be available in your accounts in a few hours.”

 

Brock nods a thanks and takes the bag, and his face twists a bit in confusion. Evan raises his eyebrow at him, and Brock looks at Sark.

 

“This is kinda heavy,” Brock mentions.

 

“Well I'd hope so,” Sark smiles his goofy grin. “You guys each got almost 20k each, remember?”

 

Brock coughs a bit and Evan lifts his head. “Wait, what? _Each_?? I thought that was just total,” Evan says to the shopkeeper. Sark shrugs.

 

“The guy said it was big bucks, man.”

 

Evan and Brock share a look of disbelief with each other, and Sark chuckles a bit.

 

“You guys are dweebs. Alright, guys. It's business hours, so get the fuck outta my shop,” Sark says with his goofy smile, flipping the switch again. The doors unlock and Evan rolls his eyes to the Shopkeeper.

 

“I'll call later,” Evan shakes his hand, and the oldest smiles. Brock leads Evan out, the backpack strapped on his back. Something about the money rubs Evan the wrong way, but he doesn't speak up. He was thankful for the money, really, but it's a huge jump from their normal pay.

 

Tyler and Marcel, however, feel the opposite way, both of them practically screaming when given the information and cash. All day, they talk about different things they might need or things they want. Cars, games, clothing, weapons. But at the end of the day, everyone was happy with their pay, and Evan's concerns remain unvoiced to the others. Even Brock. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;o; this isnt a very good chapter my apologies, hopefully next will be a bit better
> 
> feel free to follow my tumblr, gotthat-miniladddclutch.tumblr.com (theres music on my blog plz be aware) 
> 
> hope you guys have enjoyed so far, this is quite fun to write! see you guys on the flip sideeeee~~


	6. Never trust... Who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello this is a long chapter but bare with me its an okay chapter. this is a very active chapter, which happens to have lots of blood and cursing. LOTS. of cursing.
> 
> honestly, theres not much for me to talk about without giving too much away, so as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

Evan completely forgot about escorting Chilled to Cypress Flats, so needless to say, he was surprised to get a call from the other in the late afternoon.

 

“Everything is packed,” Anthony tells him, sounds of shuffling in the background. “Sark said you and... Marcel? You were going to escort me, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Evan replies, leaving his room to tap Marcel on the shoulder as he watches TV. “We'll be there soon, have the back door open.”

 

“Okay. And wait, before you hang up.. Have you seen Adam?”

 

Evan blinks in surprise. “Adam? I saw him a few days ago. What's wrong?”

 

Anthony sighs a bit. “I don't know.. He talked to me a few days ago, telling me the other location was ready, but I haven't seen him since... Neither has Sark.”

 

Evan thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers against his leg as he watches Marcel slip his shoes on. He has to admit, it is a bit strange for Adam to go missing without talking to Chilled, though he can't say he knows Adam well enough to say something's wrong.

 

“I'll try to find him, though, Adam is a weird guy. Who knows what he's doing? Maybe he's on some kind of special run.” Evan rubs his forehead a bit at Anthony's sigh. “Don't worry about it, alright? Stay on your toes, we'll be there soon.”

 

With that, Anthony hangs up, drawing a loud sigh from Evan. Marcel gives him a questioning look, but Evan just waves it off.

 

“Adam's missing, but I have a feeling he's alright. Anthony isn't happy. Are you ready?”

 

“Sure, gonna grab some 'protective thingies' and head out,” Marcel replies, tossing his keys to Evan. Evan catches them and nods, headed out the door and to the ground floor.

 

It's not long before Marcel emerges from the lobby of the apartments, toting a backpack on his shoulders. Evan waits for him to catch up before the two walk a block away, Evan tossing the keys back to Marcel as they approach the Patriot. The two pile into the front, Evan carefully placing the backpack beneath his feet in the floorboard. Cold metal digs into his back from the pistol wedged in his waistband, and as he pulls it from the uncomfortable position, Marcel snickers.

 

“How did I know you'd have a god damn pistol already?” He smirks to Evan. The other smiles a bit and chuckles.

 

“Guess you know me well, man.” Marcel nods a bit.

 

The drive towards Cougar Avenue was mostly quiet, aside from Marcel occasionally humming and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the radio. The sun has already started to set, and by the time they arrive at the back entrance of the clothing store, the sun is halfway below the horizon. Anthony is sitting on a trashcan near the back door, offering a small wave as the two pull up. The two step out and greet him, Evan transferring his pistol from his lap to his waistband once again. Anthony stands from the trashcan, waving Evan inside as Marcel opens the trunk of the Patriot.

 

With the three of them working, it doesn't take too long to get the heavy boxes places into the vehicle. There aren't many, but they're definitely bulky, resulting in Anthony getting a bit annoyed as he works on tetrising the boxes together. Once finished, he closes the door, and rolls his eyes at the loud ringtone coming from his back pocket. Evan snickers a bit, knowing exactly who it is.

 

“Yeah?” Chilled asks. “...Really? … I'm not an errand boy, Old Man! … Ugh, fine. You're gonna get cancer one day, though. You know that? ….. Ugh, whatever. We'll be by.”

 

Anthony hangs up and facepalms a bit, and Evan raises an eyebrow.

 

“Sark wants me to pick up a pack of Redwood's on our way there, is that okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Marcel answers, climbing into the driver's seat. Anthony nods a thanks, climbing into the back while Evan climbs into the passenger's side.

 

Anthony becomes a backseat driver for Marcel, directing him a few blocks away to the nearest convenience store for a special delivery of “cancer sticks.” Evan gets a nervous feeling as they pull up, seeing as how the store was the location of one of their first armed robberies, though Evan chooses not to draw any attention to it. The owner couldn't possibly see through latex animal masks, so there's nothing to worry about.

 

Evan climbs out once they're parked, smoothing the hem of his shirt down to keep his weapon fully concealed. No, he definitely doesn't play to use it anytime soon, though the feeling of the weapon close to his side (Back, rather.) gives him a deep feeling of comfort. Marcel follows in his footsteps, climbing out of the vehicle and remotely locking the doors.

 

The store is fairly busy for it being the evening, but it gives the three a chance to pick out some snacks for their little journey across town. Anthony heads right for the Reese's cups, a big grin on his face when he turns to Evan again. If there's one thing he knows for sure about Anthony, he fucking _loves_ Reese's candy.

 

“You're like a kid who got the best gift ever from a fuckin' God,” Evan comments.

 

Anthony snickers. “Listen, these **are** a gift from God, okay? Who has ever been sad about their lives while eating these? _No one._ ”

 

“You're twelve.”

 

“I'm a twelve year old with a gift from God.”

 

Marcel laughs at that, drawing the attention from the elderly man in line in front of them, who only shrugs to the three and faces forward again. Marcel leans into one of the isles, grabbing a large bag of chips from the shelf and holding it out to Evan. He raises an eyebrow.

 

“No cash. Pleeeeeeease?” Marcel whines. Evan rolls his eyes but takes the bag nonetheless, carefully digging his wallet from his back pocket.

 

The older gentleman in front of him begins to take an irritatingly long time once it's his turn, slowly counting out the multiple dollars in coins for a cheap 6 pack of beers. Evan's eyes slowly move around the store, taking in the peaceful surroundings now that he wasn't robbing the place. His eyes stop on a TV screen mounted to the ceiling, showing several different angles of the inside and outside of the store. He watches for a moment, watching himself sway in place as he waits. The older man finishes and exits, and Anthony steps up.

 

“Two packs of Redwoods, please,” Anthony asks politely.

 

Evan continues watching the cameras, and blinks slowly as he watches all the cameras simultaneously turn to static. A huge wave of uneasyness swallows Evan, and he's quick to grab Marcel's attention. Marcel must feel the same discomfort, giving Evan a concerned look.

 

Then, time stops.

 

There's an almost deafening crash, and through the loud yells of “hands up!” and “get down!”, Evan gets an instant headache. Two men burst through the front doors, shattering the glass in the lower panel of one of the doors. The men are immediately recognized as Terroriser's workers, and Evan instinctively reaches out, grabbing Anthony's upper arm and yanking him behind himself and Marcel, slowly slipping the wallet back into his pocket. The first man, decorated in a rather formal leopard print tuxedo and house cat mask, steps forward, glancing between Anthony and the trembling cashier before turning the shotgun in his hands to the man behind the counter. The second, looking as though he's just jumped from bed with a yellow shirt and grey sweatpants on his body, an oversized red balaclava over his head, turns his own shotgun to the three, keeping his distance.

 

Anthony is practically moving across the floor, he's trembling so much, but his fear forces Evan to be the bigger man. He's on a job as an escort, and he plans to be that escort.

 

“Money. Now,” The tabby cat barks to the cashier in an uncomfortably familiar voice, one that Evan can't quite put his finger on. Both Anthony and Marcel seem to notice as well, sharing a surprised glance between one another. Chilled's grip on Evan's shoulder tightens in the slightest, and Evan's glad he turns his head to give the other a reassuring look.

 

There's a loud, sickening crack, followed by a small yelp and loud clashing. Evan turns back in time to witness the cashier throw a bat over the tabby man who lay on the floor, aiming directly for the second robber. The standing man easily dodges, taking hardly any time at all in pulling the trigger and wasting the cashier, sending the gruesome sight of the upper portion of the mans face, head and brain matter against the wall of magazines and cigarettes. Evan jumps, but doesn't react further, almost relieved to feel Marcel subtly slip his hand underneath Evan's shirt and grip the gun in his hand gently. God, he's really fucking glad for that gun.

 

The second keeps his shotgun aimed on the three again as he steps closer to his fallen friend, but when the other waves him off, he quickly jumps over the counter, searching around for what Evan assumes to be keys.

 

“No,” Anthony begins to mumble, over and over, his voice straining as he holds his breath. Evan turns to look to him, seeing the other staring in wide eyed horror at the man on the ground. He turns to look as well, and he practically growls at the mixtures of emotions that swim around his head.

 

The first swing the cashier took hit the well dressed cat just above his temple, hitting with enough force to rip the tabby mask from his head and knocking it to the floor. The man rises to his knees, covering the lightly bleeding wound spotting his head, and as he lifts his head to look at the three, Evan instantly recognizes him as Adam. Though, “Adam” isn't the first name Evan thinks of.

 

The other finally gets the register open, grabbing a grocery bag and shoving the cash inside. Adam slowly stands, never breaking eye contact with Evan as he gathers his mask and gun again, Adam's eyes seeming to begin to fill with tears.

 

“You fucking traitor,” Marcel spits, and the one behind the counter lifts his head. Adam shakes his head carefully.

 

“I can't be a traitor if I've never been away from Terroriser's side, Marcel,” Adam responds. Evan is completely speechless, flinching slightly at the tightening grip on his shoulder.

 

“You lied to me?!” Anthony yells, and Adam physically shrinks back.

 

“Anthony, please, I-”

 

“Kill them, Nanners! We don't have time for this!” The other yells, jumping back over the counter with the bag in hand. Nanners waves him off and shakes his head, staring at a crying Anthony. He reaches out for Anthony, and Evan is tempted to tackle him, beat him to a pulp, but instead pushes both Marcel and Anthony further behind him. Adam shoots him daggers, and Evan returns the favor. He has no idea how exactly to feel, though anger and betrayal are are probably the most reasonable.

 

The loud cocking of a shotgun pulls Evan back into reality, and he's quick to push the other two to the ground behind the counter, snatching his pistol from his waistband and pointing it at the two, blindly shooting a few times as he runs to hide among the shelves. The other fires back, thankfully missing the quick-moving target. Adam yells, and Evan is quick to find out that the other enemy's name happens to be Ohm.

 

The sounds of Anthony begging for Evan not to hurt Adam are drowned out by the ringing gunshots, which soon cease as Ohm hastily pulls Adam out of the store. Evan emerges from cover, shooting the remaining clip at the retreating pair with no luck (though, he's not too sure he's trying too hard.)

 

He glares as the two pile into the back of a black van, Adam taking one last look at the store and almost directly at Anthony before slamming the doors shut. The van speeds away with loud squealing, and he slowly comes completely out of cover. Evan quickly turns to the others, his heart practically breaking at the sight of Anthony crying, struggling against Marcel as he holds him back from leaving. His voice is completely shattered as a result from yelling, but it doesn't stop him from still calling for Adam to come back and “face his mistakes.”

 

“Basically, we need to go, _now_ ,” Evan growls, shoving the gun back into his waistband. Marcel stands without hesitation, dragging Anthony with him to the Patriot. Evan's stomach churns as he glances at the blood and brains dripping and drying on the walls, and with a swift movement, he yanks the discarded Redwoods from the counter and presses the panic button, sprinting from the store and catching the thrown keys as he climbs into the driver seat. Marcel manages to get Anthony into the back, climbing in next to him just as Evan speeds back down the road.

 

Anthony gives up on calling for Adam.

 

 

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

 

 

“That SON OF A BITCH!” Sark yells, pacing the back of his shop quickly, gloved hands anxiously running through his hair. Evan refuses to look up at the older man, choosing to stare at the ground as he stands close to Anthony, who has climbed up onto an empty table . Evan continues to rub light circles into the others back, tapping his fingers against his leg once again.

 

“NEVER trust Nanners! The fucking _traitor_!” The way the words roll off Sark's tongue make Evan cringe, though he doesn't blame him.

 

Out of all of Sark's workers, he would've expected Adam to be the last to betray him. He's been with Sark for the longest time, and knowing that Adam was never on their side to begin with makes his blood boil. His trust has been completely betrayed, and the feeling of the heartbreak is still so fresh that now that there aren't guns aimed at his friend's faces, he wants to fall into hysterics. He glances at Anthony, and bites the inside of his lip at the sad sight.

 

Anthony has pulled his knees to his chest, hugging the limps tightly and using his knees as a pillow of sorts to hide his tear-stained face in. Evan can't begin to imagine how awful he must be feeling, though, he's not quite sure he honestly wants to. From everything he's seen the past few months, Anthony and Adam were practically a couple. Attached at the hip. Completely honest with each other. Now, it seems Anthony is having to throw away any feelings he's ever had for the traitor, throw away everything he's seen and been through with the other, all due to the fact that as far as they know, Adam was faking it the entire time.

 

Sark roughly runs a hand down his face, staring at the wall with apparent thought. He licks his lips and turns back to Evan, pointing as him and then to Marcel, who has been so quiet that Evan almost forgot he was there.

 

“Get your shit together, and be ready to figure out where the fuck he is. You're assassins now, and you're gonna bring me his god damn head,” The shopkeeper growls, and Evan opens his mouth to accept before a hoarse voice interrupts them.

 

“No,” Anthony's quiet, spent voice says. The other three look at him with almost surprised expressions, and Evan's hand slowly stops the comforting circles. Anthony slowly lifts his head, choosing not to look at anyone with his bloodshot eyes. “Adam... Is my kill. You don't fucking touch him.”

 

Evan's never seen this side of Anthony before, though, Sark has always told Evan to stay on his good side. Sark and Evan stare at each other for a moment as if psychically talking to one another, and Sark slowly nods.

 

“You heard him,” Sark mumbles, and Evan just nods. It's quiet for a bit longer, and Sark quietly approaches Anthony. “You're staying at my place until we're sure nothing's going down. Evan, can you guys keep the stock for a few days until I get another place situated?”

 

Evan silently agrees.

 

“You two get outta here. I'll take care of Chilled. Get rest.”

 

Neither Evan or Marcel attempt to argue, taking the opportunity to head home the second they can. Tyler isn't there, so Marcel immediately crashes on the couch without even taking his shoes off. Evan drags himself to his bedroom, feeling extremely emotionally and physically drained, tossing the empty weapon onto his dresser. There's movement from the bathroom and Brock quietly appears in his pajamas, a smile on his face. Evan looks to him, but for some reason, he can't smile back. Brock's smile slowly fades, and when the tears begin to roll down Evan's cheeks, he's quick to pull him into his arms and mumble reassuring words to the younger. Evan doesn't know exactly _why_ he's crying, though the possibilities are seemingly endless with the nights events, and once Evan is finally able to explain what happened to his roommate, Brock is speechless.

 

Evan is hit with another wave of tears, and Brock slowly brings Evan into his own bed, letting Evan lay on the window side while he lay next to him. Evan stares out at the night sky, slowly calming down after a few moments, the feeling of Brock laying next to him offering him some extra comfort. He glances behind him to see Brock laying with his back to him, and he slowly scoots back, pressing their backs together lightly. Brock presses himself back against Evan, and with that, Evan is quick to fall into a much needed sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never. Trust. Nanners.
> 
> Also oops im a ChilledNanners nerd dont even look at me s o r r y
> 
> let me know what you guys thinkkkkkkkkkkkk, and i'll see you in the next one (which will hopefully be plot heavy as well >:3)


	7. Pogo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no words this is a long bad chapter lmao
> 
> theres blood and cursing and general rudeness so be warned haha
> 
> theres not much to say, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~

He regrets trying to sleep.

 

Each dream that happened to fill Evan's head last night was nearly identical, trapping him in a constant loop of watching the innocent cashier being nearly decapitated right in front of him. The nightmare startles Evan awake several times, but each time he'd just scoot closer to the sleeping body next to him and shove his face in his pillow.

 

The final time Evan attempts to rest makes him feel the worst. As he expects, the same scene plays through his head, though the gory fate doesn't belong to the cashier. Brock is the one to stand behind the counter, locking eyes with Evan for several seconds before the trigger is pulled. He doesn't wake up immediately, though after a few moments of silence, a light tapping on Evan's cheek rip him from the dream.

 

His body jerks lightly as he finally opens his blurry eyes, meeting face to face with a sleepy Brock, who takes his hand from Evan's cheek.

 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Brock guesses. Evan groans and nods, covering his head with his pillow. The nightmare is still fresh in his mind, and he can't handle his best friend looking at him without feeling like it'll be the last time. The older shifts a bit and pats the pillow.

 

“What happened?” Brock asks. Evan knows there's no way he's going to be able to avoid this conversation, especially while he lay in Brock's bed, and decides to jus get it over with. Slowly, Evan moves the pillow from his face, keeping his eyes closed.

 

“It was just me watching that cashier die over and over.... But the one you woke me up from was.. Worse, I suppose. It wasn't the cashier, it was actually you.” Evan feels a sense of awkwardness as he tells Brock that he was dreaming of hi, but he does his best to ignore the feeling.

 

“Me?” Brock almost sounds surprised. Evan shrugs a bit.

 

“No clue why. It's over now, though, don't sweat it,” Evan says. Brock sighs a bit in response and lays still.

 

The two are silent for a while as they lay there, Evan not noticing the sun coming through the window. He groans and rolls over Brock, laying across the older's stomach and stretching out to grab his phone from the nightstand. Brock groans a bit and Evan smirks, checking his phone for the time.

 

_10:43 am_

 

He's surprised, the two slept for nearly 12 hours, and even though he was woke often from nightmares, he feels more rested than before. Brock huffs beneath him and suddenly drops a pillow onto the younger's face, snickering at the loud groan that escapes Evan's lips. He takes the pillow from his ace and drops it on Brock's, smiling and sitting up.

 

Evan's stomach growls loudly in hunger, and Brock laughs at the sound. Evan rolls his eyes.

 

“I'm gonna go check on Sark and Anthony. Where's Tyler been?”

 

“Last I heard, he's using some of the money he got to take Craig shopping today.” Brock watches Evan shuffle to his dresser and pull out fresh clothes. “Want me to come?”

 

Evan shakes his head. “It'll be a quick visit, just chill for a while.” Brock silently agrees and Evan moves into the bathroom to change.

 

Once dressed, he moves to the living room where Marcel continues to snore on the couch. He doesn't bother getting food, deciding it would be worth a shot getting lunch with Sark and Anthony. He gently steals his red jacket from underneath Marcel's sleeping body, slipping it over his shoulders before grabbing his keys from the dining room table and leaving.

 

Evan's surprised that there aren't any cars in the small parking lot of the Ammunation, but as he climbs out of his Zentorno, Sark appears from the shop doors. He seems a bit surprised to see Evan, but waves him over.

 

“Didn't expect to see ya,” Sark tells him as Evan approaches, taking a pack of Redwoods from his back pocket.

 

“Last minute visit,” He replies, politely declining when offered a cigarette. “We quit for the crew.”

 

“Good on ya,” Sark smiles, lighting the Redwood between his lips and taking a large puff.

 

“How are you holding up?” Sark only shrugs in response, tapping the ash to the ground. “And Anthony?”

 

“Poor kid's so confused, and I don't think he slept at all. He's in the back now, said he wanted to stick around e for a while, so he's just organizing what he feels necessary. It distracts him.” Sark shakes his head and takes another long drag. “I can't believe this. Terroriser probably had us _all_ in his records, and we've just been sneaking around the bastard for nothing.” The thought of Terroriser already knowing everything about him makes Evan cringe.

 

“Enough about the Elephant in the room. I don;t wanna even think about it,” Sark groans.

 

Evan nods and looks to the busy street just in time to catch a glimpse of two identical yellow Buccaneer's turn the corner and disappear. He turns back to Sark and kicks his feet a bit.

 

“Well, are you hungry? I can pick up some pizza or take out,” He offers. The shopkeeper's eyes light up.

 

“Food I don't have to pay for? Please. Anthony is hungry, but he probably won't admit it.”

 

Just then, the same two cars from before turn onto the street again, and both Evan and Sark see them this time. Sark drops his cigarette and stomps out the cherry, watching the cars circle.

 

“Christ, Lui,” Sark groans, earning a questioning look from Evan. “One of the Main Men for the Vagos. You know, Pogo Mask Aircraft guy?”

 

“Oh,” Evan remembers. Lui Calibre is big in drug trade, and probably the biggest threat to the Military's vehicle inventory. He can get in and out with tanks or various aircraft's unbelievably easily, and no one is too sure how. Evan sees pictures of him in the news, but he never paid too much attention to him.

 

“Aren't they part of the East Side?” The younger asks, and Sark nods. The sudden realization hits Evan. “Those are the same looking cars from the Canal..”

 

Both cars turn into the parking lot, stopping not too far from the entrance of the Ammunation. The four that exit are sporting a yellow bandana in some way. As Sark guessed, Lui is one of the four, Pogo mask on his head, yellow bandana tied around his neck and tucked into his shirt collar. Evan feels Lui's eyes burning intp his own and his body involuntarily tenses up. He feels vulnerable, like prey, and he curses himself for leaving his handgun behind.

 

Lui shoves his hands into his shorts' pockets and slowly steps forward towards the two, getting too close for Evan's cofort, but he stands his ground. He stops a few feet ahead of Evan, dark eyes practically shooting Evan through the skull. There's a tense silence as Lui looks Evan over, before he nods a bit.

 

“This Vanoss?” Lui asks, more to Sark than Evan himself. Evan glances to Sark, and with a small nod from the shopkeeper, Evan agrees.

 

“Can I help you?” The owl asks, and Lui chuckles a bit.

 

“You can rot in Hell,” He responds, and Evan has no chance in protecting himself.

 

Lui throws a quick punch right to Evan's mouth, sending the other tumbling back into the wall of the shop, hitting the back of his head roughly against the brick structure. Sark yells something, but Evan can't understand him, focusing on the person in front of him. He throws a kick to Lui's ribs, but he easily sidesteps and is on Evan in an instant.

 

Lui's hand tangles in the front of Evan's shirt as he shoves the other against the wall very roughly, and there's a cold pierce on the side of Evan's throat. After a moment of nothing, Evan opens his eyes, releasing his held breath when he sees Sark holding a handgun near where Lui's heart is.

 

No one moves a muscle, not even the other three gang members, and Evan is suddenly aware of the metallic taste flooding his mouth. Blood drips from his chin to the sleeve of Lui's jacket, and the two don't break eye contact. Evan can hardly breath with how hard Lui's pressing against his chest, but the spinning and throbbing of his head distracts him from it.

 

“Lui,” Sark growls, slow and low. “Put the knife down, or so help me God...”

 

“This isn't your fucking battle, Sark. This little bitch and his posse shot up our deal. _Our_ deal. They almost fucking killed Droidd,” Lui spits, not once breaking the eye contact with Evan. Evan slowly begins to piece it together, this is an act of revenge, all for the Canal job.

 

This is fucked.

 

“Lui, they didn't know, okay? I gave them the job from a call, alright? No details, no names, no clue it was the Vagos. Droidd's alive, right? Give Banana Bus a chance. I'm vouching for this crew. Please,” Sark quietly pleads.

 

The tense silence only continues, and Evan begins to actually pray. He's so sure he's about to die, until the pressure from the blade begins to lessens. Lui shoves him into the wall roughly once more before taking a step back, knife pointed at him still.

 

“You got till midnight Wednesday to get the Vagos $50,000. One week. Bring it to the complex, _alone_ , and we'll talk then.”

 

With that, Lui just turns and gets back into one of the vehicles, the others following his lead, and the two cars slowly pull back onto the busy street and disappear around the corner. Evan nor Sark move until the vehicles are gone, and the younger slowly wipes at the blood pouring from his lip with the back of his hand. He just almost fucking _died_ , and had it not been for Sark, he'd be choking on his own blood right now.

 

Sark quickly holsters his gun on his hip before grabbing Evan's hand and moving it from his face, examining his lip. Evan doesn't struggle, too dizzy to even look up at the other.

 

“Wow, he got you pretty good,” He mumbles, and Evan gently nods.

 

“Felt like it,” Evan groans a bit, slowly leaning his head back against the wall and hissing loudly in pain at the feeling. His head is throbbing and spinning still, and his chest is still hurting from when Lui practically punched him. His lip has become numb, but every time he goes to spit some of the red from his mouth, he flinches at the rough sting. Dammit, he _knew_ he had a feeling for a bad reason, but not a “gang members wanting revenge for shooting their friend” reason.

 

“Go ahead and head home, forget about lunch. You've got a debt to take care of,” Sark pats his shoulder. Evan pushes himself off the wall, slowly standing straight with a sway. He's getting progressively dizzier, and Sark no doubt notices, putting a hand on the back of Evan's head and biting the inside of his lip at the sight of the younger's bleeding scalp. “On second thought, you aren't driving. I'm calling Brock.”

 

Evan groans at the mention of Brock but is silent, allowing Sark to lead him inside and sit him in the back. Anthony takes one look at Evan and moves to the front of the shop and distracts himself with something else.

 

Evan slowly sits on the floor and leans against the wall, hugging his knees and resting his head on them. He hears Sark on the phone but doesn't register his words, assuming it's Brock on the other end. Sark soon lifts Evan's head gently, holding up a cold water bottle and a small towel. His lip has finally stopped bleeding, and Evan uses the water and towel to clean some of the blood from his chin and neck.

 

He can't recall when exactly Brock showed up, but he's there nonetheless, walking right to Evan once he gets there. He doesn't say much, just a few “Thank You”s and “Jesus Christ”s while he helps Evan off the floor. Brock takes his keys and escorts him to his Zentorno, opening the passenger door and watching Evan carefully climb in.

 

Both Tyler and Marcel are in the living room when they arrive, and Brock shoots down their questions about Evan's bruised face or bloody shirt. He feels better, especially with some more iced water flowing through his system, but even then he can't shake the nervous feelings of having to stand in the planning room and explain how they have to rack up $50,000 in a week.

 

This is fucked. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ok this is actually really fun to write jesus ah


	8. Vangelico

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shits gettin weird yo just bARE WITH ME OKAY
> 
> im very ahead in this story, as in i have the next two chapters already written, and i haven't decided whether I should update daily until I run out of made content, or just try and do it weekly. i'll figure it out at some point.
> 
> there's not too much to say other than strap in from here on out because from this point on, chapters can get quite brutal and generally fucked up (not really including this chapter maybe????) so stay on ur toesies for that load of hoopla, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

Evan gently lowers himself into the office chair, slowly spinning to face the other three in the planning room. Their faces are soaked in concern, Brock's mixed a little more with an upset vibe. With a throbbing head and a deep breath, he decides to cut right to the point and get it over with.

 

“I was visited by Lui Calibre,” He begins. “We fucked up a Vagos deal when we visited the canal, and one of the guys we took down was apparently _super important_. He's alive, which is a fucking blessing, because if he wasn't, we'd be dead.” His fingers subtly trace the area around where the knife was pressed into his throat, reminding him of his close call. “ **But** , that's not good enough for Calibre. We owe fifty thousand by next Wednesday, or we _will_ be dead. Lucky us, huh?”

 

The silence that fills the room is extremely tense and filled with thought. Evan refuses to look up to their confused and shocked expressions, choosing to just stare to the floor ahead of him. Tyler is the one to break the silence after a few uncomfortable moments.

 

“Dude, we can _not_ just pull 50k out our ass. That's like, almost half of what we made on that fucking job!”

 

“Nice detective skills, Scooby Doo,” Marcel comments. Tyler flips him off quickly.

 

“He's right though,” Evan groans, rubbing his temples and closing his eyes at the loud sounds of Tyler yelling. Brock makes his way over to him and lightly pats his back, earning a small nod from Evan. “I got plans, don't worry about it. Just give me a day or two and I'll be good to explain.”

 

Evan waves the three out, taking a moment to relax. He moves back to his bedroom and curls up on his bed, sinking into the plush material. He wants to sleep his headache away, but the pain from the aching combined with his swollen, sore lip make it difficult for him to rest, causing him lots of tossing and turning for the next half hour. He groans into a pillow, and the voice beside him startles Evan.

 

“You really shouldn't be trying to sleep with a concussion,” Brock's voice says from the other bed. Evan turns on his side to face him, watching Brock put away the book he was reading to face Evan.

 

“I'm not concussed, dude,” Evan replies, gently burying his face into his pillow. He hasn't puked at all, he can see and hear just fine, and he hasn't gotten dizzy in a while. He feels that there's no reason to be concerned about concussions.

 

“You know you aren't doing any sort of work until you're completely better, right?” The older ignores Evan's comment, and Evan moves the pillow just enough to glare at Brock with one eye.

 

“I can handle a bump on my head, Brock. I'm fine. We start planning tomorrow, end of story.”

 

Evan turns him back completely to his roommate, feeling a wave of some sort of anger or annoyance wash over him. He feels offended, maybe because Brock is trying to baby Evan, or maybe even because of all the events over the day, he's not too sure. Regardless, he doesn't turn or make any moves to talk to the roommate, even after coming to the conclusion that he'd be getting no rest then. He waits until Brock goes to the bathroom before he makes his way out of the room, heading to the living room where Marcel and Tyler silently watch some cartoons. The two make a spot for Evan on the couch and he takes it, leaning back and watching the animations while being handed a poptarts package.

 

 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

 

 

It took a long time, but Evan managed to fall asleep long after the other three did, resulting in Evan waking up at about 2:30 in the afternoon. He sits up in his bed, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the sunlight through the window as his fingers slowly trace over his injured lip, then over his throat. His head actually feels quite amazing in comparison to last night, giving him high hopes for today.

 

Looking around the room, Brock is no where to be seen, but voices can be heard from the other side of the bedroom door. He slips out of bed, leaving on a muscle shirt and the usual pajama pants and slipping out of his bedroom quietly.

 

Brock is standing in the living room, facing the kitchen, and is the first one to see Evan emerge from the bedroom. With a large smile on his face, Brock waves a bit to Evan, and he waves back sleepily. There's a sudden drop of guilt in his stomach. He feels awful for getting upset with Brock the night before. He was only trying to look out for Evan, but he took it as a bad thing. He really hopes he didn't upset Brock, but by the looks of it, Brock didn't even notice.

 

He hesitantly steps to the living room, stopping inside the large room just enough to be able to see into the kitchen where Tyler and Marcel are. The two are _very_ messily making customized pizza with cheap frozen dough and off-brand ingredients, singing off-key to the radio once again. Evan rolls his eyes and rubs his head, hissing when his fingers get caught in blood-coated hair. Brock straightens up a bit, giving Evan a curious look.

 

“What?” Brock asks.

 

“I need a serious shower,” Evan cringes a bit. “Let the dweebs know that when I get out, I'm making a call, and we're having a real meeting.”

 

Evan turns and begins to head to the bedroom, slowing down as he hears Brock ask from behind him, “You're feeling better already?”

 

“I'm feeling really good, actually, Moo,” Evan calls from the bedroom. “Be back,” He says through the closing door. There's a strange silence as Evan is stood still, glued behind the bedroom door, but he forces himself to ignore it and head to his dresser for new clothes. He grabs his phone before shutting himself away in the bathroom, excited for his much needed shower.

 

 

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

 

 

Evan sits in the office chair once more, this time spinning to face the large white board with notes on the Jewelry Shop scribbled all across it. Sark had already gotten previous information on the shop before Evan brought it up, which seems like a good sign to him. The other three hover around the board, reading over everything for a moment before Evan speaks.

 

“Vangelico. Back and front entrances, though the back is a bit harder to get through. Security is complicated, though I think Brock can handle it. We just need it jammed long enough to get in and out,” Evan begins listing things from off the top of his head.

 

“Any Security Officers?” Tyler questions.

 

“One. But there are Rockford Patrols outside as well, so we'll most likely need to have some sort of distraction. I'm gonna be heading up there to scope it out, any volunteers for tagging along?”

 

Brock's hand is the first to come up, and Evan nods to him.

 

“How are we hittin' it up?” Marcel asks.

 

Evan shrugs. “It's a fairly simple place, we'll probably be able to pull it off with little weapons and armor. I have a few plans, but they'll all wait until after Brock an I get a good look at the place. Good?”

 

Everyone nods, and the four disperse to their previous activities.

 

 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

 

 

Evan slowly pulls his Zentorno to the curb, putting it in park and leaning back in his seat a bit. Brock unbuckles his seatbelt next to him, looking past Evan through the open window and into the small row of stores. Evan turns his head that way as well, eyes immediately falling to the Jewelry Store. His eyes move across the rest of the stores and stop on a small cafe with tables on he outside, right across from the jewelry store.

 

“You hungry?” Evan asks, checking the time. _6:13 pm_

 

“Maybe just a drink,” Brock replies. Evan turns off the car and moves to exit, but Brock's hand shoots out and attaches to his wrist tightly, and the older mumbles, “Evan, I think we're in trouble.”

 

Evan turns his eyes to where Brock stares forward and groans, seeing SeaNanners stand with a familiar looking dark-haired man just in front of their car. Adam's large grin spreads across his lips as the two separate, Nanner's going to Evan's side, the other man to Brock's. The two rest their arms on the doors and lean in the windows, but Evan doesn't look at either.

 

“Well, what do the birdies need over here?” Nanner's almost taunts, earning a glare from Evan. He's still _very_ salty about his betrayal, and it's taking a lot for him to not murder Adam right now.

 

“You need to leave, Adam,” Evan growls to him, only getting his trademark dolphin giggle in return.

 

“'Fraid you boys are gonna have to come with us,” The other man smiles sweetly, nodding with Adam. The voice brings back his familiarity, and Evan recognizes him from the Ammunation.

 

“We don't _have_ to do shit for you guys,” Evan says after a small moment of silence, earning yet another giggle from Adam.

 

“Somehow,” Adam mumbles, watching as the other man slowly pulls out an inactive sticky bomb from his jacket pocket, carelessly pressing it to Brock's chest. “I don't think you two will be able to resist.”

 

The device begins to beep loudly, and both Evan and Brock tense up. That's a bomb. That's a _fucking bomb strapped to Brock's fucking chest._ All the color drains from Brock's face as he stares down at the flashing lights, while Evan's hands grip tightly at the steering wheel in need of something to do.

 

“Just follow us, and you'll be just fine,” The dark haired man nonchalantly says. “But just know, we'll be watching you guys. Get too far back or start trying anything....”

 

“Ka-boom,” Adam whispers.

 

Evan has a bad feeling again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WAS FORCED TO END IT ON A CLIFFHANGER IM SORRY
> 
> if you cant tell by this point, anything that has to do with the terroriser is just not ok, so if youre not all up for hyper scary kingpin brian, just save urself the time and stop reading ok i have a thing for scary things????
> 
> im just gonna leave my tumblr here because i always post when i update this fanfic and im always looking for asks and requests and just general hoopla about nothing (yes i realize not everyone has a tumblr but listen im trash okay and tumblr has good memes); gotthat-miniladddclutch.tumblr.com
> 
> i got high hopes for this fanfic and hope you guys do too!! see you in the next one ^-^


	9. The Less-Ok Big One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this is where shit gets rude so if blood and general assholery isn't okay with you then this is the point in this story to just stahp reading (TRIGGERS: Blood, General Violence, lots of bad words, NTN)
> 
> basically we've finally gotten to the BIG POINT of this story and everything is gonna go downhill from here ha
> 
> i have a few chapters just ready for postage, so for the next week or so there'll probably be a new chapter every day or every other day because i have no patience and also why not
> 
> thank you to everyone who has made it this far, it's really nice to see people like my work! and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ <3 :3

“Evan,” Brock mumbles in a panicked voice, shakily grabbing at Evan's arm. “Evan, there's a fucking bomb on my chest, man.”

 

Evan stares as the two walk to their own black T20, blindly reaching his hand out and allowing Brock to tightly grab his wrist. His heartbeat and the beeping of the bomb are happening nearly simultaneously, completely drowning out the rest of the sounds around them. Brock tightly tangles his fingers with Evan's, the younger returning the tight pressure. Brock's hand is trembling ridiculously, though Evan can't blame him. Fuck, he's trembling nearly the same, and he's bomb-free.

 

The drive is a long way up Senora Freeway, and Brock holds onto Evan the entire way there. They never stray more than two car lengths from the henchmen, even when they reached the nearly empty streets of Sandy Shores.

 

The two cars pull up to a dingy bar, completely void of other customers. The T20 is turned off and Evan hesitantly does the same, reluctantly pulling his hand from Brock's grasp. Adam and his friend emerge from their car, gesturing to the two as they walk towards the dimly-lit entrance. Carefully, the two leave their own vehicle, following the traitor and his friend into the bar.

 

There's shitty country music playing through a rundown jukebox, and Evan thinks it matches the place perfectly. The bar isn't too big, but the pool tables and dining tables have been pushed to the side, revealing more of the cracked wood flooring. Terroriser stands at the far side of the room, talking with a tall man with a paper bag over his head. Evan would laugh if there wasn't a bomb attached to his best friend.

 

The blond gives a large smile as he sees Evan, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. Adam quickly searches both Evan and Brock, taking the pistol in Evan's waistband and tossing it onto a nearby table.

 

“Why the long face, Vanoss?” Terroriser steps towards them. Evan doesn't reply, only thrusts his thumb back towards Brock. The Kingpin chuckles a bit, nodding to him. “Nogla, please make our guest more comfortable. Why don't you come chat, Vanoss? We have _a lot_ to discuss.”

 

Evan gulps at the way the words roll off Brian's tongue, but he doesn't make any moves to get closer. The Paper Bag moves past him just as the still unnamed man shoves Evan into the open space. He stumbles, moving a few feet in front of Brian. He takes a step back once he's balanced, taking a deep breath.

 

“Are you scared, Vanoss?” Brian asks, stepping back and leaning against one of the pool tables. Evan bites his tongue, scared that if he opens his mouth, he'd say something he shouldn't. Terroriser shakes his head a bit. “I'm trying to be nice, man. Work with me a bit here.”

 

“You seriously call strapping a bomb to my friends chest nice? What's your fuckin' deal, man?” He's angry, which in all honesty probably won't help him in the slightest. Evan regrets opening his mouth, feeling a shift in the air of the room. He's fucked anyway, might as well go with it.

 

“ _I_ didn't do shit to your buddy, Vanoss. Gassy and Nanners were the escorts, yeah? I've sat my pretty little ass right here waiting for you the entire time.” Evan glares at the Irish bastard in front of him, looking over his shoulder to Brock.

 

Brock stands wide eyed behind Nogla, watching both Nanners and Gassy step closer to the owl. Evan steps to the side, moving away from both them and Terroriser. The blond smiles again, shifting his hands around in his pockets. “Lets talk bidniss, Vanoss.”

 

Evan has a _really_ bad feeling.

 

“Are you hired to kill people, or just rob them?” The Irishman asks.

 

“Don't interrogate me,” Evan snaps, earning a punch right to the cheekbone with what feels like brass knuckles. The hit is unexpected, sending Evan stumbling right into Nanners. Adam grabs onto his upper arm and wrist, Gassy quickly doing the same on the other side. His head spins for a moment, and he looks up to see Terroriser standing in front of him, and Brock's worried face behind him.

 

“I don't think you understand, _Evan_ ,” Brian spits. “You don't have a choice in what's going down tonight.”

 

Evan tries desperately to back away, to push Nanners or Gassy off, to do _something_ to get the fuck away. He's definitely panicking, short breaths hissing through his teeth, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Brian only chuckles, fidgeting with the brass knuckles around his fingers.

 

“You really fucked up, man. Like, _really_ fucked up.”

 

“Get to the fucking point.” Evan should really keep his mouth shut, only getting another hard hit to his jaw, managing to split open his lip worse than before. He lets out a groan, lowering his head to watch the blood drip to the floor slowly. “C'mon man, this isn't fucking fair! At least _tell me_ why I'm getting the shit beat outta me!”

 

“How dumb do you have to be to not just _know_ , man?? Think about it for a fucking second, Vanoss. I'll give you a hint, you stole some expensive shit and shot up some pretty important people.” Vanoss knows he's talking about the Canal, though he chooses not to reply, only looking up at the dickwad in front of him. When Vanoss doesn't reply, there's a hit to his opposite cheek, sending his head back. “You aren't very smart.”

 

Evan's mouth floods with a familiar metallic taste, head beginning to spin again. He's dizzy, no doubt, and he just wants this to be over with. “Just tell me what I did, man.”

 

“For starters,” Terroriser taps his chin. “You shot Gassy, my _favorite_ man, riiiiight about **here**.” He punctuates his sentence with an _incredibly_ rough punch to Evan's lower ribcage, causing him to yelp and double over. “Wait a second,” Brian uses his off hand to roughly grab onto Evan's jaw, straightening the owl up. “I don't think that was as painful as a gunshot.” There's another rough punch almost in the exact same place, and Evan's legs give out. The two provide him rough support, giving him no choice but to take it.

 

“You almost killed him, Vanoss! One of my favorites..” He trails off, turning a bit to get a look at Brock's horrified expression. Evan does the same, but quickly closes his eyes, not happy with the older's presence. “Not only that, but you managed to make off with near half a million in precious fucking product! Do you _understand_ what a fucking setback that is??”

 

Evan doesn't answer, earning brass knuckles to the gut. It takes a lot not to puke right then and there, but he manages to pull through, groaning as he's dropped to the floor. Brian throws his foot roughly into his side, hard enough for Evan to almost choke on blood as he has a coughing fit. Brian waits until the coughing has subsided before using his foot to turn Evan to his back, smiling down at him.

 

“I'm feeling generous, so I'm only making you pay for the stolen product, organization damages, and Gassy's suffering. 98 thousand a month, 6 months. Then you'll be free, yay!” Brian claps a little, but Evan only glares. “Deal?”

 

“Fuck you,” Evan groans stubbornly, earning a brutal kick to the face. His world spins and doubles and fades, and he's forced to keep his eyes closed. He can't move anything without hurting in the slightest, but he's too disorientated to even _try_ to move around. Everything is just so _blurry_ and _nauseating..._

 

“I'll take that as a yes,” Terroriser's muffled voice rings through his ears. “I'll be hiring a fun little someone as well, just to keep an eye on you. Make things a little more interesting. You'll be helping pay for him, too.”

 

Evan hardly registers his final words, only something about being in touch and hospitals or what not. It's quiet for a long time and nothing happens, but he doesn't dare move. He's in too much pain to even be able to think about moving, and the more seconds that go by, the darker and quieter the world around him becomes.

 

There's hands on his neck and shoulders, lightly shaking and prodding at him, and the last sound he registers before finally losing consciousness is Brock's plead for him to open his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVAN ISNT DEAD yet
> 
> was that ok??? was that an ok thing to do??? because damn daniel its happening. 
> 
> if you decide to come back again, yvm, and i'll see you in the next one <33333333333


	10. What The Cat Dragged In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is pretty much a filler because why not. also more crying evan because thats always fun man 
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who is enjoying this story so far, i promise you it'll end with a bang, whether you personally like it is of course up to you. it'll be a bang either way. 
> 
> there's not too much to say, see you at the end, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ <3 :3

Evan jerks awake in panic, the memories of what happened with Terroriser filling his head. There's a pierce and ache throughout his chest and head when he tries to sit up, and a hand on his shoulder startles him into accidentally punching himself in the ribs lightly. Brock sits next to him, hand still gently placed on his shoulder, Marcel standing just behind him. The two look concerned, though seeing Evan's normal confused expression changes their faces more to relieved. Evan quickly squints his eyes against the bright lights highlighting the white room, and the beeping of the heart monitor next to him startles him for a moment.

 

“What the fuck,” Evan groans, laying an arm across his face as he leans back. He hisses in pain when his arm comes in contact with his nose and cheek, and he lowers his arm.

 

“Hospital,” Brock tells him, handing Evan his phone. “You've got some cracked ribs, broken nose, and a chipped tooth. Oh, and-”

 

“Let me guess, a concussion?” Evan takes his phone, opening his camera. Brock nods a bit, rubbing his shoulder. Evan holds up his phone to get a look at the damage, and he almost laughs at himself. His left eye and cheek are completely swollen, a dark bruise accompanying the split skin below his eye. His lip is in fact worse, though it doesn't look too dangerous. His nose is fairly purple, a small curve in it, though Evan barely notices the mutation.

 

“Jesus... What did you tell them?”

 

“You got jumped by some gang kids in the East. Told them you didn't want to press charges, and none of your booboos are fatal, so once you're ready, we can go.”

 

Sure enough, the nurse walks in with a large smile on her face. She quickly checks on Evan before giving them a rundown of precautions they need to take and things to look out for. She gives him a few prescriptions for swelling and pain and sends him on his way, recommending he be guided with a wheelchair downstairs. Brock gives Evan a clean pair of clothes before he leaves with Marcel, Brock on the search for a wheelchair and Marcel getting his Patriot ready to pick them up.

 

Evan gets changed in the small bathroom, wincing as he moves his arms around to undress. He cringes at the bruises painting his ribs, even a small cut or two, and quickly moves to cover the painful marks. He's ready at almost the exact moment Brock returns with the wheelchair, slowly lowering himself into the seat and wincing at the pain. The older lightly pats his shoulder, thanking the nurses before wheeling Evan out.

 

The sun actually hurts Evan, making him groan in pain as he covers his eyes with his hands gently. Brock gets him to Marcel's vehicle and helps Evan in, handing him a pair of dark shades. A nurse kindly takes the wheelchair and Brock climbs in, turning off the music for Evan as they made their way home.

 

During the drive home, the full force of Terroriser's words begin to sink in, almost making him start sobbing right there in the back seat. They've got to give up nearly $100,000 a month as well as $50,000 in the next few days, plus whatever thousands they just racked up sending Evan to the hospital. He's glad they've already come up with some sort of job, otherwise he'd probably go a tad crazy. His massive migraine and aching body do nothing to help his mood, over all bringing him down.

 

Tyler is there when they arrive home, whistling at Evan's banged up face as they walk through the door. Evan doesn't respond, turning off the dinning room and living room lights before leaving his shades on the table. Slowly, he trudges to his bedroom, turning off the light there and curling up on his own bed.

 

The sun has finally begun setting, and his mind is racing with so many thoughts. He can't help it, hugging one of his pillows tightly as tears begin streaming down his cheeks. He's scared, really. One of the most brutal Kingpins is out for his own crew, and one little fuckup, they're dead. It _really_ doesn't help that they have a professional stalker watching their every moves.

 

His bed sinks behind him and a hand lightly grips onto his shaking shoulder. Evan knows it's Brock, slowly sitting up to face his friend with his teary eyes and bruised face. Brock is frowning sadly, eyes moving across Evan's features.

 

“Evan,” Brock mumbles to him quietly. “Please, don't shut yourself down from this. I know you, dude. We need to be calm about this.”

 

“Calm?” Evan repeats, staring at Brock through squinting eyes. “How do you expect us all to be able to remain okay when we owe two different gangs more fucking money then we can get our hands on, and if we do anything wrong, we'll be fucking dead?” Evan shifts a bit, wincing at the ache in his ribs. “We are so fucking screwed, Brock. There's not enough jobs the four of us can do to make enough money to pay these guys and keep up our normal lives.”

 

“Why are you being so pessimistic, Evan?”

 

“Pessimistic?? Brock, I'm being _realistic_ if anything! Remember that little fucking feeling in my stomach when we're fucked, yeah? Got that with the Canal, and I got that now. I was right to doubt that fucking job, and look where's it's brought us.”

 

“Well then what do you want to do, Evan? Give up before you even try? For fuck sake, Evan, you run Banana Bus, the only crew with full access to _Sark._ Dude, you can get out of _anything_ with him by your side, and you can get anything. And you know what, we can even get more crew members for bigger jobs if we need to. Evan, we're gonna do this, alright? Give it a chance before you go planning your funeral.”

 

Evan looks away from the other, wiping a tear from his uninjured eye. He supposes Brock is right, though he doesn't want to outright agree with him yet. There's still time to determine their situation, and it has full ability to go either insanely well or gruesomely bad. Brock rubs Evan's back gently and the younger leans on his shoulder, drowsily closing his eyes.

 

“How long was I in the hospital?” Evan asks quietly.

 

“Only a day. It's Saturday evening.”

 

Evan quickly opens his eyes. “Dude, we're running out of time to get that Jewelry Store cleared.”

 

“No,” Brock immediately replies. “You aren't doing our first big heist all banged up.”

 

“You aren't in control of my actions. If I can move around enough to get around the apartment, then I can do a tiny heist.”

 

“No,” He repeats in a more stern tone.

 

“Bite me,” Evan mumbles to him, getting increasingly more aggravated. “I know what my own body can handle, I don't need you trying to baby me.”

 

He bites his tongue, watching as Brock's shoulder's drop. The room slowly grows more tense, and Evan's stomach churns in guilt. He didn't mean to be that harsh, and once again he's treated his best friend like absolute shite. The sudden overwhelming urge to throw up hits him, and he scrambles off the bed and to the bathroom, closing himself in and emptying his stomach into the toilet until there's nothing left. Even when he feels better, he only flushes the toilet and washes out him mouth, then returns to sitting against the wall, wincing and cringing at the constant ache of his rib cage and head. After a few moments of silent thinking, he shakily pulls his phone from his pocket, taking a while to slowly type out a text.

 

_Sark, I need your help._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SARKY HERE TO SAVE THE DAY 
> 
> hope you enjoyed, see you guys in the next one! 
> 
> p.s i'd totally write more in this end note but i have nothing to really say but i feel as though no chapter is complete without a good ol razzle dazzle at the end so


	11. Te chapter where I can't think of a title

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when i said I was gonna update like daily? yeah i apparently lied
> 
> hopefully this will be fixed, and the chapters will come out more often. this story is about to get a lot more intense and i for some reason am very reluctant to update it, butfuckit amirite???????
> 
> this chapter features more sick evan and nagging brock, so i hope you guys enjoy that
> 
> i need to update the tags soon............,,,,,,,,,,,,
> 
> as always, i hope ye enjoy ;D

Evan hasn't slept yet, thinking through too many things and worrying about too many other things to feel tired enough for an actual good night of sleep. That, combined with the constant aching of his chest, head and face, and he's had enough jitters to keep him awake to the next morning.

 

He taps his foot lightly as he sits at the dining room table, listening to both Tyler and Marcel snoring on the couch. It's hard to tell what time it is with the blinds closed, and with a glance at his phone he sees it's 8 a.m. He looks through his texts with Sark once more, just to give him something to do.

 

_Sark, I need your help._

 

Sark: _I heard you were in the hospital. What do you need?_

 

_Forget the hospital. I need you to come help tomorrow with getting some kind of plan together for vangelico._

 

Sark: _Are you sure you should be doing jobs right now?_

 

_Dammit sark please_

 

Sark: _ill be there after work_

 

Evan slides his phone across the table away from him, sighing as he rubs the right side of his face. Guilt churns his stomach over the fact that he's completely ignoring Brock's concerns, and even more because he hasn't even told Brock he's contacted Sark. Part of him tries to shrug it off, telling himself it's “just business,” but a majority of him is calling himself an asshole.

 

Marcel's head pops up from the couch, mouth wide open in a yawn. Evan waves a bit at him, and Marcel only stares sleepily for a moment.

 

“Why's it so dark?” He asks groggily.

 

“I'll die if there's light,” Evan mumbles, and Marcel nods a bit. He slowly stands from the couch, dragging himself to the small guest bathroom opposite of the hallway. Evan kicks his feet against the floor lightly, wiggling his sock-covered toes against the hard floor. There's a small groan from the couch, and Tyler's head pops up a moment later.

 

“My pillow left..” Tyler glances around the room, sleepily waving when he notices Evan. Evan waves back.

 

“Your pillow is probably peeing,” He comments.

 

“Gross.” Tyler lays back down again, throwing a leg over the back of the couch. Marcel emerges from the bathroom door and stares at Tyler, shaking his head.

 

“No,” Marcel says, making his way to the kitchen.

 

“You don't like my comfy position?” Tyler pops his head up again, pouting when he sees Marcel has moved to the kitchen. “Please make me food.”

 

“Bruh,” Marcel says blandly. The kitchen light turns on and Evan closes his eyes, still in too much pain to handle even a little florescent light. “You want some Hot Pockets, Evan?”

 

Evan shakes his head and folds his arms on the table, slowly laying his head down on them. Marcel shuffles and clangs around the kitchen, shoving a few Hot Pockets in the microwave and setting them to cook.

 

“Evaaaaaan,” Tyler draws out, suddenly sitting next to the owl. He lifts his head quickly and groans, closing his eyes at the dizziness. “Dude.. What happened the other day?”

 

“What do you mean?” Evan asks.

 

“What the _fuck_ do you think I mean? You were just put in the hospital dude. I'm gonna fuck up whoever made that happen,” Tyler says defensively, gesturing to Evan's body. Evan blinks slowly in confusion.

 

“Did Brock just... Not tell you?”

 

“Brock wouldn't say shit, dude. He was freaked the fuck out,” Marcel chimes in.

 

“Oh,” Evan replies. “Um, well.. I got to meet Terroriser. We owe him 98 thousand a month for half a year. It was because of the Canal, of course.”

 

There's a weird silence as the two just stare at Evan, both of them scrunching their eyebrows in confusion.

 

“That cunt,” Marcel whispers as the microwave chimes. Evan nods.

 

“Dude how the fuck are we gonna do that?? We gotta _live_ you know!” Tyler exclaims, rubbing his face in frustration.

 

“Yo, chill your damn voice,” The owl groans, earning a small apology from Tyler. “Listen, Sark is coming over tonight.. We're gonna plan for our first heist.”

 

“Wait what,” Marcel quickly butts in. “Woah, dude. _Heist??_ We're just... I don't know, errand boys.”

 

“Plus, can you even _do_ anything in that condition?” Tyler adds.

 

“Did I fuckin' stutter?” Evan groans, tired of people second guessing him. “We can do this one guys, it's super small. Easy Peasy.”

 

“Lemon squeezy?” Marcel chirps.

 

“EZZY PEZZY?” Tyler eyeballs Evan, pulling off his best Craig impression.

 

“Ezzy fuckin' pezzy, man.”

 

“What is?” Brock's voice startles the three, all of them turning their heads to look at the figure in the hallway. He looks right to Evan, waiting for his answer.

 

“Uhhh, we're gonna heist... We're planning tonight,” Evan mumbles.

 

“You're better?” The older asks in a completely unconvinced voice.

 

“Brock..”

 

“Are you?” He pushes.

 

“Can we please,” Tyler butts in, rubbing his temples a bit. “Let's just go look over what we have, it's not like he's going anywhere today. Jesus. Not like we could even stop him from going.”

 

Evan stomach flips as Brock's shoulders drop. _Jesus_ he's really fucking up.

 

“Hot Pocket?” Marcel offers rock, and the older nods a bit, taking one from the plate.

 

God damn, he's _fucking_ _up_.

 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

 

Evan slowly lays on the couch, lifting his legs and letting Tyler sit under them. Brock turns on the Xbox and tosses Marcel a controller, the two taking their places on the floor in front of the couch. Sark supposedly got off work about a half hour ago, but with no calls yet, the four decide to just fuck around until he gets there.

 

The three take turns with CoD, Evan passing due to dizziness and just the general lack of motor skills in his current condition. The three get loud, and even _louder,_ to the point where Evan almost has to leave.

 

Until there's a knock on the door.

 

Marcel jumps up and tosses his controller to Tyler quickly, letting him keep his turn while he answers it. Marcel greets Sark, and the shopkeeper enters.

 

“Where's the other two?” Sark asks, only able to see Tyler from where he stands. Brock makes a noise of acknowledgment, and Evan slowly holds a hand over the side of the couch. Sark walks over to take a look at the owl, cringing at his beat up body.

 

“Jesus, kid. Sorry,” Sark offers, but Evan shrugs it off.

 

“Let's get the planning over with please.”

 

Tyler kills Brock once more before quickly exiting the game, earning many death glares from Brock.

 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

 

“This may be your first “Big Kid Heist,” but it's an easy target guys,” Sark says to the four, looking over the white board. “I got a guy who can buy whatever you get whenever you get it too, so this should be easy money for these debts you guys got going on.”

 

Evan leans back in the chair slowly, watching everyone read over the board some more. “Does anyone have any ideas yet?”

 

“We should just run up in there,” Marcel suggests. “Treat it like a corner store hold up.”

 

“Security is more complicated,” Sark comments, hoisting himself up to sit on one of the tables. “There's a button behind the counter and a button just next to the front entrance, both are panic buttons. There's one camera in the entire joint just above the front door, but the feed isn't live. Each case is sensitive, and once it feels like it's being messed with too much without being unlocked, it'll send less-panicky alerts to the LSPD, and they'll most likely send a cruiser. Place is loaded.”

 

“Brock can totally jam it,” Marcel shrugs.

 

“That's complicated, man,” Brock sighs, looking over a blueprint.

 

“I can get you some help with a program to get through, but you won't be able to completely rid the alarms. You can severely delay them, which should provide enough of a window,” Sark informs. Brock nods to him a bit, moving closer to Evan and turning on the laptop that idly sits on the table.

 

“We need crowd control, a distraction, and people to pick up the target,” Evan tells them, rubbing the right side of his face lightly. The room falls into a thoughtful silence while Brock types away.

 

“There's four of you, so one crowd control, two runners, and a distraction. Easy,” Sark smiles.

 

“Evan doesn't count,” Brock mumbles over his shoulder, earning a glare from he owl.

 

“Not incapacitated,” Evan says with a sigh, doing his best not to show his agitation.

 

“He could always just be the distraction,” Tyler offers, but Brock shakes his head.

 

“Actually, I have an idea,” Sark raises a finger, looking over the board again.

 

“You three wait in the back for Brock to jam up their shit, then you three run in there, Brock takes care of the crowd, Tyler and Marcel take care of the precious cargo. Evan can park across the little street there, and any patrol that go by will get too distracted by his ass parking all weird that they won't even notice. He won't even have to wear a mask, it'll be like he isn't even associated with you guys. And if he gets arrested, I can call for a Get Outta Jail Free favor.” Sark holds his arms out as if waiting to be praised, listening for an answer. “How 'bout it?”

 

“Makes sense,” Tyler shrugs to them. Evan agrees.

 

“Isn't there a guy inside though?” Marcel brings up, pointing at a bullet on the board reading “One Security Official.” The other four make small sounds of remembrance and the room once again falls silent.

 

“I can go through the front,” Tyler offers. “We'd have to play avoid-the-patrol, though.”

 

“I can do that from the front, with an earpiece. It'll just look like a bluetooth,” Evan quietly says, his head throbbing from being trapped in the bright room. He notices Brock peaking at him out of the corner of his eye but chooses to say nothing, instead closing his eyes as the words on the board begin to blur in and out.

 

“Supplies...” Sark hums, moving to the whiteboard with an opened marker. The urge to throw up suddenly hits Evan again, and he subtly drags the trashcan towards him. He doubts he'll actually use it, though it's better safe than sorry.

 

It's silent as Sark adds to the board, and the nausea only gets worse. His hands shake a bit, and he opens his eyes to see the shopkeeper standing over him, taking off his Aviators to get a good look at Evan.

 

“Need a minute?” He quietly asks, and Evan nods quickly. “Go, this meeting is pretty done.”

 

Evan carefully but quickly moves to his feet, rushing into his own bathroom and repeating the same things from the night before. He hasn't eaten, so there isn't much to give, but it doesn't stop him from gagging every few moments. He gets increasingly more dizzy, leaning his forehead against the bathroom counter. He really hates feeling like this, but the thoughts of feeling better only push him to keep waiting it out.

 

Evan manages to wash out his mouth, though he's quickly brought back to the floor with his dizziness and slowly growing migraine. There's a light knock and he replies with a small groan, looking up to see Sark poke his head in. His vision fades between blurred and double, so he just closes them again, resting his head against his knees.

 

Sark helps Evan from the bathroom to his bed, helping him lay down gently. He doesn't plan on sleeping, enjoying the feeling of not having to put effort into sitting up or standing.

 

“You guys already have most of what you need, it's just a matter of time before you can pull this off. The latest you can afford to wait is _maybe_ Tuesday _._ ” Sark shifts uncomfortably. “Listen, I've been thinking.. I think someone set you up on this job. It was extremely high pay, and now you have a double death sentence. It's just a thought, but I want you to think it over. Piece it together who might want this much shit on you. Please, take care of yourself, Ev.” Sark pats him on the shoulder before getting up and exiting, and Evan doesn't say a word, only lays there as his head throbs.

 

Brock doesn't come back into the room the entire time Evan rests.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ????????????? /guys im spiralling out of control/
> 
> Edit;; Hellooooo it is I from the future. Great news; my laptop has completely died, and is unable to be fixed. This means I've lost all of this project. Notes, previously posted chapters, and about 7 written chapters that had yet to be posted. Since Im a super poor kid, it'll be a bit until I have my hands on a replacement, so until further notice, this story has to be on break. Im so sorry if you were super into this fic, but dont worry, once we come back, it'll be heist time. B) <3


	12. Vangelico Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH I SORTA GOT A COMPUTER BACK SO IM JUST GONNA PUSH CHAPTERS OUT AS FAST AS I CAN, BUT THE DOWNSIDE TO THIS IS THAT THEY'RE GOING TO BE POORLY EDITED BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE I HAVE LIMITED TIME TO HAVE ACCESS TO SHIT SHITE
> 
> there's not too much to say here but there is blood, cursing, and murder. woo howdy is there murder.
> 
> see you guys in the end notes, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

The past few days have been stressful, to say the least. There's been some sort of strange distance between Evan and Brock, neither of the two making silly hand gestures or comments to each other when they pass. This has made Evan's recovery quite difficult, as he spends a majority of his time laying in bed, and the distance chases the older from the room most of the time. But even with the tense air, Evan's vision and migraines have mostly faded, leaving him with dark bruises to take care of.

 

The distance lasts all the way up until Tuesday evening, just as the crew is getting ready. Evan doesn't have anything to get ready for, per say, but being with them before showtime feels necessary. Tyler, Brock and Marcel only dress in half of their normal job attire, shoving the rest in a duffle bag that sits on Tyler's shoulder.

 

“Everyone ready?” Evan asks after several moments of silence, earning nods from the other three. “Everyone know what they're doing?”

 

“We got it,” Tyler waves him off. “Just make sure _you_ can distract any patrol like a boss. I'm not getting shot in the ass because _you_ can't act.”

 

“I got it,” Evan smiles. “Brock, you got the programs?”

 

Brock gives him a small nod before shoving the programmed laptop into a small messenger bag, flinging the bag over his shoulder and shifting it a bit.

 

“Anything else, then?

 

“Shouldn't we have someone there that's kinda... I don't know, you?” Tyler asks, earning a questioning look from Evan. “You know, just in case shit goes wrong, we need someone to listen to so we don't get our shit kicked in.”

 

He's right, and Evan's never thought about it. If something goes wrong, he's supposed to just leave, let the three take care of themselves. Though, the fact that Tyler thinks they need someone that's _Evan_ brings butterflies to his stomach.

 

“I don't know.... Do you think something will go wrong?” Evan asks, stalling for time over the unexpected question.

 

“I don't know dude,” Tyler groans. “Just in case. If you won't pick, I will. Brock will be our guy.”

 

“Me?” Brock squeaks.

 

“You two are fuckin' butt buddies, it makes sense.”

 

Tyler's absolutely right; Evan and Brock are best friends, and the past few days have proven that Evan cannot survive without Brock there to keep him going straight. The thoughts seemingly kick Evan's head into gear, and the decision to fix whatever problems he and Brock are having after the heist is made. Evan nods a bit to Brock.

 

“You cool?” He asks.

 

“The coolest,” Brock smiles.

 

“Then get the fuck outta here. I'll meet you guys there.”

 

\--- - ---- - ----- - ------

 

Evan pulls his Zentorno onto the curb, just in front of the shop across from Vangelico. With no Patrols in sight, he shuts off the car and presses the button to the small device in his ear.

 

“Wildcat, you're clear. Do your magic, Moo.”

 

Evan slips a pair of sunglasses onto his nose gently, watching in the side mirror as Tyler comes into view, the well-dressed piggy snuggling himself between a few bushes. There's only silence as the three wait for Brock to get into their systems.

 

“I'm in,” Moo finally says.

 

“Alright, it's all on you now Moo. Good luck,” Evan smiles, watching as Tyler shuffles himself closer to the glass doors.

 

Once Brock gives the signal, Tyler's in the door, and Evan's just barely able to see Wildcat's gun connect with the security guard's head. Then, Evan wait. _Jesus_ does he wait.

 

Just then, a yellow vest comes into view, the patrol almost prancing across the brick walkway down at the opposite end. Evan keeps his eye on him for a moment, then turns his attention to his cellphone, scrolling through his camera roll to distract himself, shifting uncomfortably against the pistol in his waistband. Then, sure enough, the patrol officer makes his way to Evan's door, knocking on the roof.

 

“Buddy, can't park here,” he says.

 

“Says who?” Evan doesn't even look up from his phone.

 

“Police do, and so do I. Get the hell out.”

 

“Where's a sign?” Evan tosses his phone into the passenger seat. “As far as I'm concerned, you're just being a dick.”

 

“Don't fuck with me kid, you do _not_ want to go to jail today.”

 

“Arrest me for asking questions? Is that how paranoid the LSPD has become?” Evan laughs a bit. The patrol officer glares down at him before roughly pulling the door to the Zentorno open.

 

He opens his mouth to order Evan out, but sudden screams for help snap the officer's mouth closed. Evan's stomach drops, and even though the screams are quick to be silenced, the officer whips around to face the Vangelico and _oh god he sees the crew why is the universe determined to kill Banana Bus._

 

“Holy Shit!” The officer pulls his gun from the holster, yelling into the radio on his shoulder for backup. As he dashes for the shop, Evan can't help but impulsively run after him.

 

Once inside, the patrol takes no time at all in pointing his gun towards Moo and taking a shot. Evan's body collides with the officer's at the _same_ time, but still, Brock falls.

 

There's a drop of panic in Evan's stomach as the man below him turns his pistol on Evan, but he's quick to twist the officer's wrist painfully, swiftly pulling his own pistol from his waistband and planting a bullet in his skull. There's horrified screams from the hostages in the corner, drowning out Brock's whimpers. Evan hesitantly lifts his head towards Moo, afraid of what he might see.

 

Moo is leaning against one of the shattered cases, holding a hand over the growing red area on his left thigh. Marcel is the first to his side, and Evan the second, making no moves to pull his arm away when Brock tightly grabs onto his wrist, all the while trying to ignore the massive aching of his ribs.

 

“Vanoss, you fucking idiot!!” Tyler yells from above, causing Evan to physically shrink. “You came in here without your shit, are you fucking _kidding me??_ ”

 

“Fuck you!” Evan's voice cracks as he yells. “Moo just got shot! Kill them since they've seen me, but we need to figure out what the fuck to do because LSPD is on our asses as we speak and Moo is, once again, _fucking shot!”_

 

Evan's stomach churns at each ringing gunshot Tyler creates, his own hand gripping tightly to Brock's all the while.

 

“Hospital,” Evan mumbles, staring at the wound. “We can't take care of gunshots..”

 

“No!” Brock snaps, wincing and hissing through his teeth as he shifts his position. “I'm not going to risk going to prison. They'll connect me to this shit. No hospitals.”

 

“Dude we can't just leave it either!” Marcel grips onto Moo's shoulder lightly.

 

“Craig..” Tyler says quietly. The three look up to the pig mask. “Craig did this shit when we were starting out. He's closing up Ponsoby's now.”

 

“But what about Ba-”

 

“Fuck all of that!” Tyler snaps, cutting Marcel off. “He probably knows anyway, might as well just fuck it! Do you want Brock fixed or not??”

 

There's a tense silence, but Evan agrees, reluctantly taking his hand out of Brock's grasp. “I'll meet you guys there.”

 

“Grab the laptop,” Brock nods to Evan. “If you close it, it'll continue jamming the system long enough for you to get out the door.”

 

Evan nods to Brock, shoving his pistol into his waistband as Marcel and Tyler gently pull Brock through the back entrance. Evan stares at the mess of bloodied bodies and broken glass before slamming the laptop closed, pulling the collar of his shirt just above his nose and dashing out the doors. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yupyupyuppppppp
> 
> next chapter may be up tomorrow, may not be, depends on if i can get it written the way i want it,,,,,,
> 
> <3333333333


	13. Bring Him Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MiniCat is too much for me
> 
> and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

Evan pulls the back door of the Patriot open, glancing around the dark alley as Marcel and Tyler kick through the exit door of the Ponsoby's. The force is unnecessary in Evan's opinion, but he doesn't try to scold them.

 

Brock slowly scoots out of the vehicle, wrapping his arm around Evan's shoulders, the owl wrapping his own arm snuggly around Brock's waist. He gives Brock all the support he needs as he slowly leads the limping friend into the clothing store, the open door leading them into the back of the Ponsoby's. They find themselves in an apparent break room, complete with a small fridge, microwave, and a storage closet. Right ahead of the two is a row of dressing rooms, which Craig stands in front of, hands up at his sides in a surrender as he stares through the opening to the main area of the store. The Brit turns a bit as Evan and Brock enter, his eyes opening wide at the sight of Evan.

 

“Evan??” He yelps, dropping his arms.

 

“Hey, Craig,” Evan says quietly, taking Brock to one of the dressing rooms and helping him sit slowly against the wall.

 

“What the fuck is going on??” Craig asks urgently, never breaking eye contact with Evan. Once Brock removes his mask, Craig's eyes fall to him, and slowly, he turns back to the front of the store. Marcel enters the room, mask in hand. Tyler doesn't come further than the doorway, head also void of mask, and the room is completely silent.

 

“Tyler...” He barely squeaks after a moment, wearing an expression of complete disbelief and sadness.

 

“Craig, listen,” Evan steps forward, gently taking a hold of Craig's elbow. “I know this is like.. The most fucked up thing to happen tonight, but Brock's been shot.”

 

“What??” The Brit yelps, turning to Brock. Moo gives a small wave. “Uh, shit. Alright.”

 

“Is everything locked down?” Evan turns to Marcel and Tyler. Marcel nods to him.

 

“Doors locked, blinds down. You're clear.”

 

“Take Tyler and the shit to Sark, and get out of your gear. Come back when you're done,” Evan orders, turning back to Moo as Marcel walks out the back exit. Tyler doesn't move for a moment, looking to Craig for some sort of acknowledgment, but Craig only turns his back, opening a small medical panel on the wall above the injured crew member. Tyler hesitantly follows Marcel.

 

“Take off your pants, Brock,” Craig deadpans, pulling the medkit from the cabinet and taking a seat next to the eagle.

 

“You're saying that to me and not Tyler?” Brock attempts to joke, shimmying his sweatpants down past his knees.

 

“I'm not saying shit to Tyler,” Craig spits. “I don't even want to be talking to you two.. Evan, get a water bottle from that fridge.”

 

Evan does what he's told, feeling a genuine fear of Craig's current attitude. Craig accepts the water bottle from Evan's hands, pouring a bit over the wound to rid it of some of the blood. Evan can't help but just stare. Brock was _shot,_ and it was Evan's job to make sure that didn't happen. His heart breaks, not only because his best friend is hurt, but because he thought he was doing _so well_ with such a simple role.

 

Brock hisses through his teeth at Craig pokes and pats at the bullet hole with a damp cloth pad, obviously trying his hardest not to flinch away from Craig's touches.

 

“How the hell did I never see you guys as Banana Bus?” Craig mumbles, more to himself than the other two.

 

“I guess we're just sneaky?” Brock offers.

 

“Or I'm an idiot,” The Brit shrugs. “Since this went through your clothing, we're gonna need to extra clean it, just to make sure there's no chance for infection. Evan, come here.”

 

Evan steps over Brock's legs to get on the same side at Craig and kneels down, accepting the ace bandage that he's handed.

 

“Here, wrap this right on over it, nice and snug. Don't touch anything else.”

 

Craig stands from his spot, leaving Evan to his task. Brock bends his knee a bit to give Evan a better angle, and Evan slowly wraps the cloth around the wound multiple times, quietly apologizing every time Brock flinches. Once done, Evan turns his attention towards Craig, watching as he mixes different things into a small bowl, though Evan can't tell exactly what's being mixed from his position. Craig turns back to them a moment later, a clear bowl in hand, and he shoos Evan out of his spot. Evan chooses to stand on the other side of Brock, quietly watching Craig get comfortable. He feels like he needs to say _something,_ but he can't decide what.

 

After a few moments of silence, Craig slowly unwraps the bandage, nodding at how the bleeding has slowed. He unwraps another gauze pad, dipping it in the clear mixture and cleaning the area thoroughly, using the opportunity to get a better look at the wound.

 

“Interesting,” he mumbles.

 

“Don't say it like that, you make it sound like something's wrong,” Brock sighs, shifting uncomfortably.

 

“I'm not saying something's wrong,” Craig says. “But I' not saying everything's right, either. I looks like it went in at an angle, so it'll be a bit hard get a hold of. Plus, there's no anesthetics, so you're gonna feel everything.”

 

“Great,” Brock practically whimpers.

 

“Evan, I need your help.” Evan kneels on the opposite side of Brock, scooting close to his side. “I need you to make sure he doesn't move. I don't need to do more damage than is already done.”

 

Evan leans a bit over Brock, placing his hand firmly above Brock's knee, pressing down into the ground lightly. Brock's hand drifts to Evan's free hand, his fingers wrapping tightly around Evan's palm. Evan strokes his knuckles lightly, giving his a soft smile of reassurance. Craig pours some of the mixture from the bowl over a pair of small tweezers and onto the floor, using a clean gauze to dry the metal off.

 

“Okay Brock, this is going to hurt,” Craig shifts the tweezers around in his fingers.

 

“Thanks,” Brock says nervously.

 

Craig counts down for three before digging the tweezers into Brock's skin, twisting and poking and grabbing around as gently as he can in search for the foreign object. Brock whimpers and hisses all the while, his nails digging into the palm of Evan's hand. Evan does his best to ignore the pinching, focusing on keeping Brock's leg steady. After what seems like an hour, Craig makes a small sound of accomplishment, putting the flat metal piece from the bullet wound. He stares at the bullet in the tweezers, nodding in amazement.

 

“You're lucky,” Craig says, dropping both the tweezers and bullet on the used gauze. “It was a ricochet. It's flat, but it didn't reach your bone, so it had to hit something before you. It's sharp as fuck now, so that's probably why it hurt so much.” He pats at the wound with a clean gauze pad once more, taking away any of the blood that's gathered. “Jeez, who decided to bring him here anyway?”

 

“Tyler, actually,” Evan answers, shifting his hand a bit so that he can tangle his fingers with Brock's. Craig only nods a little.

 

“Earlier, you said Sark was part of this?” Evan nods in response. “Isn't that...”

 

“Scott, yeah,” Evan finishes.

 

“Anthony?”

 

Evan nods.

 

“Adam?”

 

“Don't talk about him,” Evan says quietly.

 

“Is that why neither of them have been here? What's happening to them?” Craig pushes.

 

“Adam is an extreme traitor, and Chilled is having a mental breakdown in Sark's care. That's all you need to know,” Evan sighs.

 

“Chilled?”

 

“Anthony,” Brock chimes in.

 

“Chilled is Anthony?” Craig asks in confusion.

 

“Oh my God, Craig,” Evan sighs.

 

“Well, I'm sorry, but you guys just kinda fucked my fucking mind, so you're gonna have to give me some fucking slack.”

 

“Sorry,” Evan mumbles.

 

Craig doesn't give a warning this time, pushing a bent needle and thread through Brock's skin and pulling the wound closed. In total, there's about 7 stitches, Brock's nails pinching the back of Evan's hand with every pierce. With the last stitch, Tyler and Marcel enter through the back door, Marcel holding onto a small backpack. Evan nods to the two as they enter before turning back to Brock. Once Craig finishes, he throws away any used materials into the trash, packing the medkit away carelessly. “I'll take those out in about a week. I don't think I need to tell you this, but don't fucking walk on it for like... Weeks.”

 

“Thank you, Craig. Sorry about your hand,” Brock mumbles, loosening his grip on Evan's hand a bit to get a look at the crescent shaped dents.

 

“Sorry about getting you shot,” Evan replies, not giving Brock a chance to answer. “Marcel, what's in the bag?”

 

“Clothes for Brock,” he replies, handing Evan the bag. Craig ignores the crew, moving into the Main area. Tyler watches him before slowly shuffling after him, looking as though he's a child about to get a scolding from his parent. Evan can't help but eavesdrop.

 

“Craig,” Tyler says quietly.

 

“Fuck you,” Craig replies. “I fucking trusted you.”

 

“Please, let me at least explain!” Tyler steps towards the brit, but Craig shoves his hands into the other's chest, causing Tyler to take a step back.

 

“What is there to explain besides “oh, me and our friends have been doing illegal business and murdering people on the downlow, and lying right to your fucking face about it,” because I can _clearly_ fucking see that!!” Craig's voice shakes the entire time he yells, the tears obviously beginning to form. Tyler just stares down at the brit, mouth clenched shut tightly. Craig grabs his work bag and turns to leave, but Tyler grabs onto his wrist. Craig rips his arm from his grip, facing him and taking a deep breath. “Wherever you've been staying, whether it be with Evan or at a fucking junkyard, you can stay there tonight. Everything will lock behind you, turn off the damn lights.”

 

Craig storms out the front door, and Tyler just _stands there._ Evan slowly hands the bag to Brock, gesturing Marcel to Brock as he stands. He cautiously moves to the main area of the store, going and standing next to Tyler.

 

“Don't say anything,” Tyler mumbles to him, rubbing his hands over his face. “Let's just go _home._ ”

 

Evan nods slowly, leading Tyler back to Brock and Marcel. Brock was able to change from his tank top into an old shirt, but wasn't as lucky with his pants, requiring assistance in balancing from Marcel.

 

The four eventually make their way back to the apartment, Evan being Brock's support any time Brock needs to walk. They all sit down in the living room, no one choosing to say a word, and the four sit in complete silence.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not very good with details. if you want to know what mini made to clean Brock's booboo, it's boiled water with chlorine and salt. the daddyo says it's really good for booboos, so may as well use it haaaaaaa
> 
> see you guys in the next~


	14. Alliances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whaaaaaaat its been a hot second since the last update sorry about that children but it's back and gayer than ever. no really, this chapter is super fucking gay
> 
> there isnt much to warn or say, so as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

Evan's mind races as he stares at the coffee table. _Craig is breaking up with Tyler. Craig knows about the crew. Brock just got shot._

 

Evan's eyes move to Tyler, and his heart breaks. Tyler just looks so _sad,_ staring at the balcony door with cloudy eyes. He can't begin to imagine how Tyler must be feeling, but in all honesty, Evan isn't too sure he really wants to know.

 

The crew sits in silence for maybe 45 minutes before the silence is interrupted by Tyler's phone ringing. He doesn't react at first, but after glancing to the screen, he scrambles to answer it.

 

“Craig! Craig, hi...” Tyler smiles hopefully, running his fingers through his hair. “..I miss you too.. I'm so sorry, Craig, shit... What? … Y-Yeah, of course, I can come get you and-- What? …. Oh, alright... Uhm, Eclipse Towers, 23rd-”

 

Tyler removes the phone from his ear as the loud shriek of Craig repeating the address can be heard, followed by “Why the fuck are you in Vinewood??”

 

“Evan and the guys live here... Yeah, no shit... Alright, I love you too.” Tyler hangs up the phone, dropping the device into his lap as he buries his face in his hands. “Oh my God, thank the fucking Heavens. Craig says he's calmed down and wants to talk about everything, so he's coming over. Oh my God, thank the sweet fucking stars.”

 

“What do we even say?” Marcel asks.

 

“We just tell him the truth, answer all his questions. We supposedly have someone watching us, so we need to kinda keep him under our wing.”

 

“Oh fuck,” Tyler mumbles. “Did I just fucking doom Craig? Oh fucking shit...”

 

No one answers, and Tyler buries his face in his hands again. This is going to be one hell of a meeting.

 

\--- - ---- - ----- -

 

Evan steps to the side, pulling the door with him as he looks to the hallway. Craig stands there, changed from his work uniform to a hoodie and jeans, offering a small wave before stepping inside. Craig takes a look around, mouth open in awe.

 

“This is from a carwash?” Craig raises an eyebrow. Evan only replies with a smile before closing the door.

 

Craig moves to the living room where the other three are, and Tyler moves to his feet. Craig holds up a finger at him.

 

“I'm still mad,” Craig says.

 

Tyler sits back down.

 

“Here,” Brock offers, patting the space on the couch between himself and Marcel. Craig takes the seat, Evan following and taking a cross-legged seat on the coffee table.

 

“How does it feel?” Craig gestures to Brock's thigh.

 

“Better, still sore. Thank you, again,” Brock nods to him.

 

“So.. Let's talk... Bidness, I guess,” Craig shrugs awkwardly. “Anything I need to know right off the bat?”

 

“We're really sorry,” Evan offers.

 

“Things I don't already know. Like, why the _fuck_ is Banana Bus a thing? Why didn't I know?”

 

Evan opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. After a moment of silence, Tyler speaks up.

 

“I didn't want you to get dragged into this shit,” Tyler sighs. “We're in some bad shit right now, and we could be dead at any second. I didn't want you to be a part of it.”

 

“You think I'm not good enough?”

 

“Of course not!” Tyler snaps.

 

“I believe you, surprisingly,” Craig shifts to sit up a bit straighter. “You could've at least _told me._ What would've happened if you went out, then got fucking murdered? You'd just leave me there waiting around for a boyfriend in a body bag?” Craig looks to the other three. “You guys are just as guilty, too.”

 

“We fucked up, okay?” Evan sighs. “There's no going back now though, so we need to just figure out what to do from here.”

 

“Let me join Banana Bus,” Craig requests.

 

“Absolutely not,” Tyler immediately butts in.

 

“You're grounded, you don't have voting rights,” Craig waves him off.

 

“He's right,” Marcel adds. “We got some shitty debt shit going on, and we're probably gonna get fucking stabbed in our sleep.”

 

“If that's true, I'm probably already fucked, just by being your friend. Might as well go all out.”

 

“ _Exactly,_ ” Evan points out.

 

“Don't side with him you dick!!” Tyler yells, punching Evan in the shin.

 

“Hey, don't fucking touch your leader! Besides, it's _mine_ and _Sark's_ decision to make, whether you guys like it or not. You don't want him doing footwork, fine. He'll be an extra, plus our medicine man.”

 

Tyler groans, slumping back in the chair and crossing his arms. Craig reaches over and pats his thigh.

 

“I'll be careful. I love you?”

 

“I love you, too,” Tyler rolls his eyes.

 

“Gross,” Marcel comments.

 

“Speaking of gross, what happened to your face, Evan?”

 

“Craig, you will not believe...”

 

\--- - ---- - -----

 

The Vangelico Heist was definitely a fail in Evan's book, the sudden turn of events only leaving them with around $300,000 in jewelry. Taking both the Vagos' debt and Terroriser's debt from the pay, and the crew was left with about $152,000 between the four (Craig claimed he wanted nothing to do with the Vangelico Heist, so he wasn't included in the money distribution). Thankfully, Sark's contact was able to get them cash immediately, which Evan is able to get a hold of before his meeting in the East the next day.

 

Evan slowly gets out of the Zentorno, looking at the apartment complex he's parked in front of. The place definitely gives him an east side vibe; bass thumping in the distance, dogs barking, people partying. He _definitely_ isn't welcome, eyes following him every step he makes to the center of the apartment complex. He wasn't given an apartment number, only told to wait where everyone could see him, and Lui would come to him.

 

After several minutes of silently looking around at the two story buildings, a loud, high-pitched voice draws Evan's attention from the second floor behind him.

 

“Vanoss made it, guys!”

 

Evan turns around and looks up, meeting once again with the familiar Pogo mask. “And here I was thinking I was gonna have to kill you!”

 

“You're Lui?” Evan hollers up to him. “The fuck happened to your voice?”

 

“It's my thing, man,” Lui replies in his normal tone. “Get up here.”

 

Evan takes another quick look around before climbing the metal staircase, following Lui into the nearest apartment. It isn't what Evan expects, the room they enter looking like it was once a one bedroom apartment, but the wall separating this apartment from the one next door has been completely torn down, opening the space. There's two kitchens, a large flatscreen, a few couches, but that's all Evan has time to observe before he's lead to the closed bedroom.

 

Inside is a mostly empty room, only consisting of a large table and a few chairs. There are other Vagos inside, one of which is sitting on the edge of said table. When he sees Lui, he smiles, but once his eyes fall on Evan, his face twists with confusion.

 

“Lui, who is that?” He asks in a deep voice, thick Hispanic accent coating his words.

 

“Vanoss. He's here to pay us.”

 

“Pay us??” The other stands from his place, face falling in concern. “Lui, you _still_ went after him?? We're supposed to be making friends..”

 

“We **are** making friends! No hard feelings, right?” Lui claps Evan on the shoulder. Evan doesn't reply, only holds out the bag of cash for Lui's taking.

 

The other sighs in defeat. “Just go away, Lui.”

 

Lui scoffs, turning on heel and leaving the room, bag in hand, bringing the extra company with him and leaving Evan with the pink-shirted man. He sighs, straightening his shirt out a bit.

 

“I'm sorry about him. He's a bit... protective to say the least. He didn't do that, did he?” He asks, gesturing to Evan's face. Evan shakes his head.

 

“Terroriser.”

 

“Damn. I'm Arlan, by the way. Everyone calls me Droid,” Arlan smiles, holding a hand out to Evan.

 

Evan accepts his hand and gives him a soft shake. “Evan, but I think you know me by Vanoss. We shot you, didn't we?”

 

Arlan nods with a small chuckle but waves his hand dismissively. “It wasn't too bad. You guys got us good, though.”

 

“I'm really sorry about it.. We were just doing a job, whatever we were told..”

 

“Easy, Evan. Seriously, I hold no grudges against you or your crew. I know what it's like to do jobs, and so does Lui. We _still_ do job calls. He shouldn't have reacted like he did, but like I said... He's protective.”

 

Evan nods a bit, shuffling his feet against the floor. There's some sort of shift in the air, Evan no longer feeling like he has to have his guard up while inside the complex, and he's gotta admit..

 

It feels great.

 

“So, Vanoss...”

 

“What's up?”

 

“I have an offer for you,” Droid hesitantly speaks, taking another seat on the table. Evan nods a bit, signaling for him to continue. “Like I said earlier, the Vagos are looking for friends. We know about your troubles with the Irish Bastard, so I want to provide your crew with the protection of the Vagos, with the same actions in return.”

 

“Basically a Vagos-Banana Bus alliance?”

 

“ _Exactly._ Anytime you need help, whether it be a shootout or a job opportunity, Lui and I will be there. Just as long as we can trust you to be the same.”

 

Evan hesitates for a moment, but eventually he nods. Droid sighs in relief, giving Evan a smile. Droid grabs a small card from his pocket, scribbling both his and Lui's numbers on the back and handing it to the owl. “Give us a shout whenever you can, just so we all have each other's phones.”

 

“Definitely,” Evan agrees, sliding the card into his pocket. They bid each other farewell, Evan no longer feeling unwelcome as he exits the complex. Everything is quiet as he walks to his car, until the familiar voice of Lui comes from behind.

 

“You got Droid's blessing?” He asks. Evan turns around, and instead of the normal Pogo mask, he's met with Lui's actual appearance. Evan nods a bit.

 

“I believe so, yeah.”

 

Lui nods a bit, shuffling his hands around in his jacket pockets. The action brings Evan a sense of uneasiness, but he forces himself to relax.

 

“Man, I know I busted you up, but I didn't think I got you that bad,” Lui comments, examining Evan's faded bruises.

 

“Someone got to me after you,” Evan sighs, and Lui nods a bit, letting the two fall into a comfortable silence.

 

“I don't want to get all in your business,” Evan says after a moment. “But are you and Droid, like...”

 

Evan trails off, but Lui gets the idea. He lifts his right sleeve a bit and turns his wrist up, showing Evan the dark script tattoo below his palm that reads “Arlan”.

 

“He has one- Of my name, of course.”

 

“Cute,” Evan smiles a bit, earning an embarrassed chuckle from Lui.

 

“Well, I'm pretty sure Droid gave you my number, so give me a ring later. I got shit to take care of.”

 

Lui gives Evan a light punch to the shoulder, and Evan returns the gesture, smiling when Lui turns back to the complex and disappears between the buildings.

 

This went so much better than Evan thought it could.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> both minicat and silentcalibre ruin my life okay dont even look at me right now


	15. Moving In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyyyyy lots of blood and bad words because why not (its not even a lot of blood)
> 
> also another warning minicat is super gay here so
> 
> also HOPEFULLY i have my shit together enough to pull out a bangin new chapter every day/every other day so keep you little heads up for those updates if you enjoy this that much (i also post these updates on tumblr under the tags noobsnatch and banana bus squad)
> 
> and as always, i hope ye enjoy~:3

When Evan wakes up the next morning, he's relieved to see a text back from both Lui and Arlan. With a silent yawn, he looks to the other bed, smiling at the steady breathing lump underneath the blankets. Reluctantly, Evan scoots off his bed, rubbing his bare, bruised ribs a bit before moving into the living room.

 

To his surprise, Marcel is actually awake, standing in his pajamas in the kitchen while he waits for his coffee to brew. Craig is still here as well, sitting on the edge of the couch and watching the morning news. He's the only one to notice Evan's presence, waving a bit to the owl as he enters.

 

“Morning, Bruises McGee,” Craig teases.

 

Evan rolls his eyes. “Don't you have work to go to?”

 

“I start at ten, I have a while,” The brit replies, looking back to the TV. A loud groan from the couch grabs Evan's attention, and he leans a bit to see the sleeping body of Tyler curled up behind Craig.

 

Marcel walks to Evan, holding two mugs of fresh coffee. Evan accepts one of the mugs.

 

“Just like you like it,” Marcel tells him.

 

“Thank you.” Evan takes a sip, resisting a shiver as the warmth fills his belly.

 

Tyler groans again, opening his eyes long enough to wrap his arms tightly around Craig's waist before pulling the lad closer to him, then he's out again. Craig pats his arms, and Evan rolls his eyes.

 

Marcel and Evan stand around as the news continues, highlighting the Vangelico heist once again. Evan closes his eyes, guilt still churning at his stomach. Once the commercials come on, Craig stands, unwinding a whining Tyler's arms from his waist.

 

“Nooo, you're so warm,” He groans, earning a small smile from the Lad.

 

“Sorry, time for me to go.”

 

Tyler carelessly grabs his phone from the coffee table, glancing at the time. “Dude, there's still an hour before work starts, why are you leaving?”

 

“Well, unlike you guys, my job requires a uniform, which you guys don't have here.”

 

“We have uniforms,” Evan jokes.

 

“ _Not_ the same thing,” Craig replies, reaching a hand down to tangle his fingers with Tyler's. Tyler presses a few small kisses to Craig's knuckles and the lad smiles, leaning down to give Tyler a soft kiss.

 

“Ewwww,” Evan turns away. “Get the mushy shit outta here.”

 

“Listen, once you and Brock get over whatever you two are going through, you'll learn to like the mushy shit,” Craig replies.

 

“Brock??” Evan turns to face the Lad, but Craig is already halfway out the door.

 

“I'll call you, Ty. Bye, guys!”

 

With that, Craig is gone, and Evan just stands there. What the hell did Craig mean?

 

A noise from the bedroom at the end of the hallway draws Evan's attention. He turns to see Brock in the doorway, leaning all his weight onto the door frame. Evan quickly puts his coffee mug on the dining room table, quickly moving towards Brock. “You know you aren't supposed to be walking around by yourself, Moo.”

 

“Now you sound like me,” Brock laughs, holding out his arms for Evan as he gets closer. Evan smiles, wrapping an arm around Brock's waist and gently leading him to the living room. Tyler lifts his head and sits up, giving Brock a space to sit down.

 

“Coffee?” Evan offers once Brock has had a seat.

 

“Please,” Brock smiles at him.

 

\--- - ---- - -----

 

Evan doesn't understand what the hell changed. Everything today had been going _so Goddamned well._

 

Since Tyler and Marcel decided to go have some brotime, Evan moved into the bedroom with Brock, the two just sitting on Brock's bed, talking the day away. Brock is midjoke when Evan's cellphone begins to ring loudly, silencing the giggles and words. Evan glances at the caller I.D, face twisting in confusion when he sees it's Craig. He glances at the time before answering. _7:43 pm._

 

“What's up, man?” Evan greets.

 

“Get your ass to the Ponsoby's _now,”_ Craig's panicked voice responds.

 

“What? What's going on?”

 

“Don't ask any questions, Evan!! I've been fucking _shot,_ so just get over here!”

 

“What the hell??” Evan jumps from the bed, carefully hopping over Brock and grabbing his shoes from underneath his own bed. “Okay, I'll go get Tyler an---”

 

“No!” Craig snaps. “I don't want to deal with his overprotective bullshit right now. Just you, and please hurry. The back is open.”

 

“Uh, alright. I'll be there soon. Lock everything else, and I'll see you in a few.” Evan hangs up the phone and shoves his shoes onto his feet, putting a hand on Brock's shoulder when the older tries to get up. “No, you're staying. Craig's been shot, but don't tell Tyler yet. Stay here, please.”

 

Brock tries to argue, but Evan's already out the door, shoving the trusted handgun into his waistband once again.

 

\--- - ---- - -----

 

Evan bursts through the back door, gun in hand, giving a small apology at the surprised yelp of Craig. Evan takes a small look around before moving into the small dressing room that Craig has taken place in, his dress shirt tossed onto the floor, leaving him in his wife beater. He's holding a hand tightly over his right bicep, blood flowing between his fingers and onto the seat below him. Evan places his handgun next to Craig, staring at the red.

 

“Jesus fuck, what happened, Craig?” Evan pushes, only getting a head shake in response.

 

“Dude, I'm so fucking freaked out, I don't know. Can we please take care of this first??”

 

“Right, right... What do you need me to do?”

 

Evan and Craig spend a good half hour together, Craig walking Evan through each step in making the same cleaning solution Craig made the night before, then talking the owl through sewing up the wound. It didn't look like a gunshot, the wound being a deep, long gash across Craig's bicep, but Evan chooses not to question the wound until after it's been pulled closed.

 

“Okay,” Evan sighs, tossing all the used gauze and needles and whatnot into the trash. “Craig, you _need_ to tell me what happened.”

 

“Shit, Evan,” The Brit sighs, running his hands through his hair. “Some creepy hockey-masked asshole came in, waving a gun around, talking some bullshit about how joining Banana Bus is the worst thing I could do. I tried to run, and he shot me, but he fucking sucks at aiming. Evan, he called me _Mini._ No one's used that name in like, months. He _knows m_ e. _”_

 

Evan's blood runs cold, his body tensing up. “What was he wearing?”

 

“What??” Craig responds, but seeing Evan's serious expression, he tenses up. “Uh, shit.. Hockey mask, blue jacket... That's all I really remember.”

 

Evan looks at his handgun next to Craig, biting his tongue.

 

“We need to go,” Evan says, gently tugging Craig up from his place and grabbing said gun, leading Craig out to the Zentorno in the alley while he dials Tyler's number.

 

“Tyler, get the fuck to the apartment _now.”_

 

\--- - ---- - -----

 

Evan paces the bedroom, ignoring the conversation between Craig and Brock as the Brit fills him in of the nights events. Soon enough, Tyler and Marcel enter the room, Tyler going straight to Craig and examining the wound. Craig, once again, relays the events to Tyler, the room then falling into a tense silence.

 

“It was Delirious,” Evan says quietly after a moment of the silence. “It has to be..”

 

“Who?” Craig asks, but no one replies. “Hello?? Answer me, assholes.”

 

“Jonathan,” Marcel answers.

 

“Jonathan??” Craig repeats. “But I thought he left town after Evan got-”

 

The gears turn in Craig's head and he falls silent, staring at Evan. Evan slowly nods, rubbing a hand over where the scar resides.

 

“I'm gonna fucking kill him, I don't care if he's your kill,” Tyler growls over his shoulder to Evan.

 

“Fuck you,” Evan shakily replies, rubbing his trembling hands together. “Will you stop trying to turn to murder every chance you get?”

 

“He just shot Craig!!” Tyler faces Evan. “I don't give a shit if he's you _ex._ Craig is my boyfriend _right now,_ and it's my fucking job to protect him.”

 

“No, it isn't! Will you fucking stop?” Craig stands and tugs roughly on Tyler's shoulder, spinning the other around to face him. “I'm perfectly fucking fine! And we all knew this would happen! We just need a fucking plan that doesn't involve murdering Jonathan, and we need it now, without all this stupid fucking fighting.”

 

“You're out of the crew,” Tyler says down to him, earning a glare from the younger. “It isn't safe.”

 

“That's not your choice, it's Evan's.”

 

“He's staying,” Evan agrees, earning a heavy glare from Tyler.

 

“If that's the case,” Brock contributes. “We need to get a place we all live at. It's obviously not safe for us to be in separate places.”

 

“I agree,” Evan nods.

 

“Our lease is up in like... two weeks. Depending on your lease here, we could all pitch in and get a bigger place together,” Craig adds, lightly grabbing a hold of Tyler's arm, getting no response from the older. “Tyler, please...”

 

“I don't fucking care, it's _Evan's decision.”_

 

Evan swallows the lump in his throat, nodding a bit to the two. “I'll ask Lui and Sark for some help in getting a new place. Craig, you should probably stay here for a bit.”

 

“Lui?” Marcel asks. “You're friends with Lui, now?”

 

“Yeah,” Evan replies hesitantly.

 

“Dude, oh God. Give me his number. I need to see if he'll give me flight lessons.”

 

“Sark could teach you,” Tyler tells him.

 

“Yeah, but this is _Lui fuckin Calibre._ Best of the best.”

 

Evan only nods a bit, the meeting coming to an end. Tyler is the first to leave, followed by both Marcel and Craig. Brock sits up in his bed once they're gone, watching Evan as he continues to pace the room.

 

“Evan, please come talk to me,” he says softly to the owl. Evan slowly stops, making no moves to get closer to the older. “Evan...”

 

“Why is he here,” Evan mumbles, more to himself than Brock. “Why is Delirious here, why is he doing this shit..? Oh god, I thought he was gone for good...”

 

“Come here,” Brock responds, repeating the words when Evan doesn't move. Evan slowly shuffles to Brock's bed, crawling onto the plush mattress and sitting beside Brock. “Listen, I don't know what exactly you're feeling right now... but I can tell it's fucking you over. I don't know what I can say to make it better, or if there even is anything to say... But we're all here, okay? Jonathan doesn't matter, and if it really is him, you know that all of us are going to do everything we can to keep him from getting anywhere near you.”

 

“You can't promise that,” Evan whimpers to him, burying his face in his hands. “We're so fucked.”

 

“Stop it, man,” Brock tells him. “I'm promising it. It'll be alright. Please, just... believe in us this time, alright?”

 

Evan reluctantly nods, leaning to the side to press their shoulders together. He has a really bad feeling about the crew's situation, now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was that an ok thing to happen? because it happened and theres no going back now


	16. Feeling Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying to keep up with the daily updates is rather tough with writers block,,,,,,,,,,,,,
> 
> if there's anything to warn about i guess it would be just general panicking and anxiety because who doesnt love putting our precious babs through some rough shit?
> 
> also this story almost has 100 kudos and to me that is insane i dont even know 100 people (100 is a lot for me and maybe a little for you but let me have my moment darn you)
> 
> ill see you in the end note, and as always, i hope ye enjoy! :3

It's been almost a week since both of the shootings against Banana Bus, and Evan's never felt so paranoid in his life. Since Craig's confrontation with Delirious, the couple has practically moved into the Vinewood apartment. Craig's brought over an air mattress that Tyler has kept from his old place, putting it into the corner of the living room and giving Marcel full reign of the couch(When he's even home, that is. He's been with Lui a majority of this week, Lui training him in all sorts of driving, early in the morning to late in the day, and he sometimes doesn't even come home). Craig's also brought over a few different pairs of clothing, including work clothes, which he stores next to the air mattress. The first few days of him being there were a bit stressful, Craig getting overwhelmed with running the Ponsonby's by himself a majority of the time, but Chilled eventually came back, happy as ever, but Evan doesn't feel like it'll last.

 

As September 1st rolls around, Evan's paranoia gets worse. Every text or call he gets makes him jump, expecting to see the unknown number of Terroriser flash across his screen. It's when Craig is busy taking out Brock's stitches that the official text comes through.

 

 

Unknown: _Come on over to my bar, Ev. It's time for our first meeting :)_

 

 

Evan reads the text and his body tenses, staring at the screen for a while before slowly sliding the device back into his pocket. Brock notices Evan's behavior and watches him, choosing not to say anything until the stitches are gone. Craig and Tyler both sense the uneasiness in the room and take it upon themselves to move to the living room, giving Evan and Brock a moment alone.

 

“What's up?” Brock asks after the bedroom door closes.

 

“I gotta go,” Evan mumbles, gently laying on the floor and fetching a backpack from under his bed. Brock watches him for a moment.

 

“Let me come with,” Brock tells him.

 

“After what happened last time you came with me? No. You don't need to see shit like that.”

 

“This is different, I won't have a bomb on my chest,” Brock attempts to argue, but Evan shakes his head.

 

“Just... listen, for fucking once, okay?” Evan says to him, earning a soft glare from the older. He hates being snappy, especially with Brock, but it seems to be the only way people will listen sometimes.

 

Evan slides his red jacket onto his shoulders, then the backpack, handing Brock his pistol. “I'm not even gonna worry about taking this. I'll be back soon.”

 

“Please call me. I want to be sure you're alive when you get out of there.”

 

“Yes, _mom,”_ Evan says, giving Brock a light fistbump before heading out of the apartment.

 

\--- - ---- - -----

 

Evan pulls up to the bar in Sandy Shores, the same bar he was at when he first met Terroriser. The sun has started to set, and with the dim yellow lights, the place looks even more janky than before.

 

Evan's greeted by both Adam and Gassy when he walks to the entrance, Gassy quickly patting him down with a grin.

 

“Glad you came, Evan,” Adam says to him, getting nothing but a small nod in response. “They're waiting.”

 

“They?” He asks quietly, but Adam just puts his hand in the center of Evan's back and gives the owl a gentle push through the door.

 

Evan walks himself around the corner and into the main area of the bar. The light country music is playing once again, a majority of the dining tables and pool tables in their designated places. Brian is sitting at his own table, beer bottle in hand, talking to someone off to the side that Evan can't quite see yet. When Brian notices him, he smiles wide, standing from his place.

 

“You listen. Good on ya,” Terroriser smiles, but Evan doesn't reply. The man Brian was talking with finally stands from his own spot, turning towards Evan, and the panic that runs through Evan almost makes him run.

 

It's Jonathan. The psychotic, blue jacket, hockey mask, tattooed up, piece of-

 

“Hey, Vanoss,” Delirious' lips curve into a shiteating grin as he walks over to stand in front of Evan, holding out a hand. Evan just stares at the clown makeup, feeling as though he's about to puke.

 

Evan slowly slides the backpack off his shoulders, dropping it into Jonathan's hands. Delirious smiles, taking the backpack to a table off to the side.

 

“I saw the news,” Brian says through the silence. “You're sloppy.”

 

“Bite me,” Evan quietly says to the blond. “Are we done here?”

 

Brian scoffs. “You think I'm gonna let you go before I've checked the cash?”

 

Evan only stands there, shifting nervously on his feet as he watches Delirious count through the rolls of cash, back turned to Evan. His hands are shaking, both out of fear and anger, and he hopes that having them shoved deep in his jacket pockets will hide the movements. Terroriser takes a few steps towards Evan, holding out an unopened beer bottle.

 

“I don't drink,” Evan mumbles to him without looking up. It's a complete lie, of course, but he just can't trust anything Terroriser gives him.

 

“Sure you don't,” Brian grins. “You know, if this _partnership_ is going to work, maybe some trust should be put into place.”

 

“You seriously call this a partnership?” Evan asks under his breath, turning his head up a bit to look at the man in front of him. Brian only smiles, and Evan can tell he's looking over the crook in his nose, the small scars on his lip and cheek. He's terrified of Brian, and the bastard knows it.

 

“It's all good,” Jonathan says, turning to face the two. Evan takes a small step back, jumping when Terroriser takes a hold of his shoulder.

 

“I know I don't have to tell you to be ready for another meeting next month, do I?”

 

Evan shakes his head.

 

“Don't disappoint me, Evan. Jonathan, walk him out, send Adam and Max back in.”

 

Evan's body tenses up as Delirious steps towards him, smiling at the owl as he takes a light grip on Evan's elbow and leads him out of the main area. Evan waits until they're out of view of Terroriser before ripping his arm away from Jonathan's grip, earning a small laugh from the other.

 

“Salty, baby,” Delirious taunts, and Evan really wishes he had his gun.

 

“Go fuck yourself,” The Owl glares to him, exiting the bar with Jonathan close behind.

 

“Hey, did Mini freak the fuck out?” Delirious pushes, waving Adam and Max inside once they exit. Evan stops next to his car, keeping his back to Jonathan.

 

“I don't care if you're hired by Brian,” Evan mumbles over his shoulder. “Get in our way, and I'll fucking murder you.”

 

Delirious laughs that creepy laugh, sending a small wave of panic through the owl once again. Evan pulls the door open and sits inside, but Jonathan keeps him from closing it with a hand on the dark metal.

 

“See you next time, Vanoss,” He smiles, closing the door for Evan before tapping on the hood, then stepping back inside the bar. Evan just stares for a few moments before pulling out of the parking lot, pulling out his phone when he gets near the freeway. Before he pulls onto the large road, he dials Brock's number with shaky hands, putting him on speaker and dropping the phone in his lap.

 

It doesn't take more than two rings for Brock to answer.

 

“Evan?” Brock asks.

 

“Who else,” Evan deadpans, getting a small sigh in response.

 

“What's wrong?”

 

“Delirious. He's here. He's in on everything. Being Terroriser's little fucking puppy,” Evan spits, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him. Brock doesn't say anything for a moment.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Think about what I just told you, and then ask that question again,” Evan sighs.

 

“Don't get grumpy with me for trying to help.”

 

“I'm not grumpy.”

 

“You're snappy. Yes, you're grumpy,” Brock tells him. Evan just sighs. “I'll see you here.”

 

Evan only makes a small hum of agreement, and the call ends. The rest of his drive home is completely silent, not even any sounds from the radio to fill his ears. He contemplates just going to Sark's apartment instead; crash on his couch for the night. Sark wouldn't ask Evan all the questions that Brock will, he'd just leave him alone.

 

But Brock is only trying to help.

 

With a sigh, he takes his normal exit before he misses it, heading to the large apartment. Tyler and Craig are cuddled together on the air mattress when he enters the apartment, and Marcel's head pops up over the couch. Evan waves at him a bit, and Marcel returns the gesture.

 

He quietly pads to the bedroom, giving a small smile when Brock greets him. He tries to make the smile wider, more sincere, but he's so exhausted that it feels impossible. Brock doesn't buy into the smile, eyes following Evan's slumped frame as he removes his jacket and shoes. There's a mutual agreement between the two without any words actually being exchanged, and after Evan's changed into his norm of banana pajama pants and a muscle shirt, he crawls onto Brock's bed, laying face-down, closest to the window. Brock pats the back of Evan's head lightly.

 

“Tell me shit,” Brock says after a moment.

 

“I want him dead,” Evan grumbles into the pillow, Brock poking the side of his head to get him to talk _to_ him rather than to the pillow. Evan turns his head so Brock can hear him. “Terroriser, Adam, Delirious.. All of them need to rot in hell. Especially Delirious. He's been hiding in Los Santos this entire time...”

 

Brock smirks. “What was that you were telling Tyler about not resorting to murder every chance he gets?”

 

“I just want them dead, I don't want to do it.” Evan shifts a bit, hugging one of the pillows. “Earlier I told Delirious that if he got in our way, I'd murder him... I think I'm talking out of my ass, though.. Shit, I don't know.”

 

“Well, then when the time comes, _if_ the time comes.. You won't have to do it,” Brock mumbles to him, laying back down to be eye level with Evan.

 

Evan lifts an eyebrow. “You're fine with me wanting to kill him?”

 

“He tried to kill you, Evan. What kind of boyfriend tries to murder his partner for money, huh? Guy is a fucking psychopath, and he's gonna get what's coming for him.”

 

Something about the way Brock talks about Delirious makes Evan uneasy, but he nods nonetheless, staring at the area behind Brock instead of the older himself. Brock sighs, reaching a hand out and patting Evan's back lightly.

 

“Go to sleep, Ev. We'll see you in the morning.”

 

With that, Brock turns his back to Evan, shifting a bit closer to the owl when Evan scoots himself against him. Too many things buzz around in Evan's mind, and he knows he won't be getting good sleep tonight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was that also an okay thing to happen also???? because it's still happening
> 
> vanoo is out of control
> 
> next chapter, as a warning, will be a filler (haha sorry but i feel like it's needed) but it will be a filler with some adorable fluffiness going on so if youre all about that you'll love the next one!!! (it'll probably be 100% okay if you skip next chapter though if you don't care i'll try not to put anything important in it) see you in the next horrible chapter stay safe xx


	17. Sleepwalking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello here is pure fluff between evan and moo because filler chapters are fucking ridiculous
> 
> you know what else is ridiculous the fact that this shite has over 100 kudos!!!! tyvm for enjoying the ride!! ive realized that this is going to turn out to be quite the long story, because we haven't even gotten to what i consider to be the midpoint of this story lawrdy. hopefully you guys will stay along for the ride, because i promise, there will be some hella plot twists happening and they're hopefully gonna give you a big surprise and frighten dontcha know!! and dont be surprised if chapters begin to get a bit lengthier and more detailed,,,,,, I've decided not to worry /too/ much about a word limit of like 2,000 words. im just gonna let it alllll happen
> 
> any warnings would be that this chapter is p gay
> 
> if you don't want to read the hella fluff, then just skip to the end, i'll highlight anything that may remotely be important in the ending notes.
> 
> and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

Evan was right, he got very little sleep last night. Every little sound, every little shift Brock made, every airplane that went by, made Evan jump. He thought of just getting out of Brock's bed, go busy himself with something else to let Brock have the whole of the mattress back, but by the time his mind is made up, Brock is already awake. Evan watches as Brock keeps his back to him, reaching to the nightstand to check his phone. Evan doesn't say anything to him, not until Brock turns a bit to look at the owl, a small smile spreading across his face.

 

“How'd you sleep?” Brock turns onto his back.

 

“Good,” Evan lies. “You?”

 

“Same.”

 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Evan cursing himself mentally for lying to Brock. Why _did_ he lie about sleep? He trusts Brock, so why not just tell him?

 

“We should do something today,” Brock suddenly says, turning on his side to face Evan. Evan raises an eyebrow. “You and me, y'know? We haven't hung out alone in a while. I'll buy us food?”

 

Evan hesitates for a moment, fidgeting with the pillow beneath him before nodding. “Sure. Where do you want to go?”

 

“Maybe the beach or something. I know you like to chill out there. We can get some food and go picnic.”

 

“I dunno about being in the sun today,” Evan scrunches his nose a bit. “I'm gonna go to the gym, and I don't wanna die.”

 

“Then we'll go for dinner and watch the sun set like we're two gay kids in a really bad chickflick,” Brock smirks, earning a small laugh from Evan. “Your ribs are good enough for the gym?”

 

“They're fine, it's been like... 3 weeks. I'll take Marcel with me in case I die,” Evan waves him off, slowly sitting up. Brock rolls his eyes a bit and slides himself off the bed, limping to the bathroom and closing himself in. Evan watches, frowning at the limp Brock has developed since Vangelico. Brock says it doesn't hurt him anymore to stand on it, but the limp is still concerning.

 

While he's alone, he changes into some old basketball shorts and keeps on his tank top, glancing at the time as Brock returns from the bathroom. _8:34 am._

 

\--- - ---- - ----- -

 

Evan totally skipped over bringing Marcel with him to the gym. It's not that he didn't want him to come, he just forgot. He did surprisingly well though, for having his ribs cracked and whatnot. When he gets home, he's exhausted, slumping face-down in his bed without even taking his shoes off. It takes him a moment to register the static sound in the back of his head is the shower, and with a peak around he notices Brock's empty bed.

 

“Didn't want any hot water, anyway,” Evan mumbles sarcastically to himself, a large yawn ripping through him. For some reason, he thought an hour and a half of exercise would help wake him up after maybe an hour of sleep, but behold; he's even _more_ tired.

 

The shower stops, and a few minutes later, Brock comes from the bathroom, giving a quiet greeting to Evan.

 

“You didn't take Marcel with you,” Brock nags, Evan rolling his eyes in response.

 

“I forgot,” Evan waves him off, sitting up at the edge of his bed and rubbing at his eyes. Brock raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Tired,” Evan shrugs, kicking his shoes under the bed. “I'm gonna shower.”

 

“Good luck with hot water,” Brock snickers. Evan smiles and flips him off playfully before disappearing into the bathroom.

 

 

\--- - ---- - ----- -

 

 

Brock wasn't kidding when he said he wanted to have brotime with Evan, practically dragging Evan out the door after the owl's shower and into the car, somehow moving faster than Evan despite his limp. Brock convinces Evan to let him drive the Zentorno, not trusting the bags beginning to form beneath Evan's eyes. He takes Evan to a small burger joint, then to an empty area of the beach.

 

They sit in the sand, backs leaned on the side of the Zentorno, facing the soft waves and setting sun. Evan keeps the radio on in the car and the windows down, giving them some extra noise aside from the water.

 

They sit in silence for the first few minutes of munching on their burgers, and a small movement in the corner of his eye catches Evan's attention. He looks down to see Brock rubbing a finger over the hurt skin on his thigh, eyes fixed on the waves ahead.

 

“You shouldn't touch it,” Evan nags.

 

Brock looks to Evan, then to the healing wound. “I can't feel anything touch this skin anymore.”

 

Evan's heart sinks as he sits up a bit straighter. Brock pokes at it a bit more before straightening his shorts over it.

 

“I feel awful,” Evan groans, laying the burger in his lap. Brock opens his mouth to question him, but Evan doesn't give him a chance to ask anything. “I fucked up on that heist, Brock.. And you got shot. Now you're all... Limpy and numb and shit.”

 

“Evan, shut the hell up,” Brock lowers his food. “That Patrol wasn't your fault. If anyone's, it was that lady. Hell, it's _my_ fault. I was crowd control, and I couldn't keep her quiet.”

 

Evan just shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. Brock frowns, scooting himself a bit to the side, just enough for their shoulders to touch. Evan sighs, leaning a bit into the touch.

 

“I don't care whose fault it was,” Evan says after a moment. “I still feel awful.”

 

“If it makes you feel any better.. I don't blame you. It's just a risk of our occupation.”

 

Evan nods a bit, staring at the setting sun while he takes another bite. Other than the feelings of guilt beginning to eat at him once again, he actually feels at ease. His paranoia has faded in the slightest, but Evan still catches himself whipping his head around at every unusual sound, expecting to see the hockey mask he loathes oh so dearly.

 

“How's the new place coming along?” Brock asks through a mouthful of burger.

 

“Nothing yet,” He sighs. “Trying to find something where we can get at least Tyler and Mini their own room, plus one for the rest of us to have our own, _and_ be able to keep up with getting Shitbag his money is proving to be highly difficult.”

 

“Well, we could always share a room again,” Brock shrugs. “Well-- If you want to keep sharing one, that is.. We don't have to, it's whatever, I just thought it might be easier,” Brock trails off, taking a large bite. Evan raises his eyebrow at Brock, a teasing smirk curving his lips.

 

“Someone likes sleeping with his best friend,” Evan teases, earning an embarrassed glare.

 

“It's nice to have company, okay? Don't be an ass.”

 

“Well, if you want to, then we can share one. We gotta have somewhere for our business to happen though, too.”

 

Brock throws his thrash into a small bag, looking at the purple and pink clouds, the two thinking over the possibilities.

 

“We could rent a small apartment extra or something,” Brock suggests, but Evan shakes his head.

 

“Too much money, I think,” He sighs. “We may just have to keep running it from the safehouse.”

 

“Won't be much of a safehouse.”

 

Evan sighs, leaning all the way onto Brock's shoulder. They drop the subject, and soon enough, the two are laughing at their inside jokes, showing each other stupid pictures they've recently seen on the internet and having a generally chill time. Evan's actually quite glad Brock semi-forced him to come out for some brotime, finding himself forgetting all about Delirious' part in this whole thing, focusing just on the closeness between himself and Brock.

 

It's when the two are laid down on the sand, staring up at the stars that peak through the light clouds, that Evan realizes the differences in his relationship with Brock compared to the relationships he has with the other crew members. When Evan's sick or upset, he never turns to them, always to Brock. It's always Brock's bed he lays in when he doesn't feel safe in his own. During the silence of the pauses between their jokes to each other, Evan's mind races with these thoughts, and it always brings up the repetitive question in the back of his mind;

 

_Is Brock just my best friend?_

 

“Evaaaaaaan,” Brock drags out, obviously after working on getting Evan's attention for a bit. Evan blinks and turns his head to Brock, giving a smile at Brock's goofy grin.

 

“We should go home,” Brock says, making no move to get up yet. “We've been out here for like 2 hours.”

 

“It's peaceful,” Evan smiles again, shifting around to where he can lay his legs over Brock's stomach. Brock laughs a bit.

 

“We're never gonna get the sand out of these clothes.”

 

“Or our hair,” Evan says, scratching a bit at the back of his head. Brock nods to him, the two falling into a comfortable silence again, Brock lightly drumming his hands against Evan's shins. Evan smiles at the fact that neither of the two make any moves to get back to the apartment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basic Highlights; Brock has stumbled (literally lmao) upon a limp in his left leg and numbness covering a large area of his thigh, and Evan's slowly coming to terms with the fact that he maaaaaaay want to date Brock at some point because he's obviously not just his best friend
> 
> also im going to be updating the tags probably with every new chapter???? so look through the tags whenever you get a chance to see what pops up haha
> 
> next chapter will be pretty bad and back with some plot so keep your heads up and stay safe xox


	18. Heist, Heist, Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE ANYONE READS this chapter is 100% poorly edited and written and im quite unhappy with it but i'm suffering from hardcore writers block and whatnot but i feel like i rly need to keep up with this daily/every-other-day update thing i've been trying to keep because you guys seem to hella enjoy this story. hopefully next chapter will be a bit better.
> 
> something to note about this chapter is that it pretty much begins the same night the last chapter ended at (errr-- next morning? idfk)
> 
> also did you see the chapter title did you did you did you im very proud
> 
> notes are gonna be at the end of the chapter, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

“ _Evan, you need to sleep,” Brock pushed again, frown tugging at his lips._

 

“ _I will!” Evan hissed, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Sorry... Look, just let me figure some shit out, and I'll come take over my bed in like, an hour.”_

 

“ _Fine,” Brock huffed, turning and limping to his own bed. Evan gulped, suddenly feeling like he's falling._

 

 

Evan jerks awake at his desk after getting the falling sensation, slowly realizing that the feeling was caused by his head sliding off of the palm of his hand. He slowly blinks as he looks around, taking in the surroundings of the crew's planning room, then looking to the papers and open laptop on his desk. Rubbing at his eyes, he begins to remember what all this junk is, and he groans quietly to himself.

 

He glances at the time, cringing when the clock reads 5:12 am. He _thinks_ he dozed off for about half an hour, but he can't quite recall. He picks up one of the papers from on top of his laptop, skimming over the scribbles he's made over various targets for his crew to attack, eyes stopping on a circled note reading “Fleeca.” He groans a bit, taking a sip of his cold coffee. With a groan, he slowly gets up, trudging to the kitchen, tuning out the soft scratching sound of his slippers against the floor.

 

He stares at the coffee pot as it brews, not having enough energy to even let the churn of guilt in his stomach bother him. He knows Brock is going to be pissed at him for lying to him about going to sleep, but he feels like he _really_ needs to come up with some sort of game plan for some extra cash.

 

He brings his fresh coffee to the planning room and continues to sip on it, growing annoyed with the tired drooping of his eyes. All he does is research, scribble, think, listen to as loud of dubstep as his headphones can handle, but he still doesn't get as much as he wants done.

 

A violent buzzing on his leg makes him jump, and he slides off his headphones to hear the ringing of his cellphone. He fishes the phone from his pocket and blinks at the screen, raising his eyebrows at Anthony's name. He accepts the call.

 

“Hey,” He greets.

 

“Hey,” Anthony says. “I know it's early, but Sark was telling me about you looking for a new place, and I have an offer for you.”

 

Evan glances at the clock and rolls his eyes. _8:56 am._ “What's the offer?”

 

“A buddy of mine has a huge summer home in Vinewood Hills that he's trying to get to someone else. Things got 4 bedrooms, huge ass pool, really awesome.”

 

“How much, though?” Evan bites his tongue, scribbling the details messily onto an extra piece of paper.

 

“Weeell,” Anthony stalls. “I can only get him to go down to seven hundred thousand.”

 

Evan sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “All at once?”

 

“I can try and work something out,” Chilled replies. “Do you want me to?”

 

“Sure, why not,” Evan sighs. “We need it soon, though, so see if he can make a decision quick.”

 

“Of course,” Anthony replies. “I'll call you.”

 

“Yeah,” Evan says, humming a goodbye before hanging up. A small sound behind him draws his curiosity and he turns his head, seeing Brock standing in the doorway. Evan closes his eyes and sighs, preparing himself for the nagging of a lifetime.

 

“What's wrong?” Brock asks. Evan only shakes his head, causing Brock's face to twist in concern.

 

“Just got carried away with work,” Evan sighs, gathering the papers and writing a small note, reading 'call sark, call lui' and posting it on top of his laptop. He stands, letting Brock take a light grip on his wrist and lead him to the shared bedroom.

 

Evan sort of lets himself be on autopilot, not questioning it when he makes himself at home in Brock's bed, nearest to the window. He's asleep almost immediately.

 

 

\--- - ---- - ----- -

 

 

The only reason Evan's awake is because of Craig.

 

“Evaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan,” The Brit sings, tapping Evan's cheek with something that's actually quite hot. Evan groans, waving his hand at the lad a bit to get him away.

 

“Mini, stop,” He drowsily groans, cracking an eye open just a bit. Craig is pouting, holding a piece of pizza above Evan's head. Evan sighs, opening a hand and accepting the piece.

 

“We got dinner,” he says. “You've been asleep for like, 12 hours.”

 

“Great,” Evan takes a bite of the pizza. “I'll be out in a minute, I have a call to make.”

 

“I'll try to save you pizza,” Mini grins, leaving the bedroom. Evan spends a few moments eating the slice, grabbing his cellphone and sneaking off to the planning room. He taps a few places and dials up Lui.

 

“Vanosssssss,” Lui greets from the other line. “What's up, owl man?”

 

“I have a favor,” Evan smiles a bit, silently yawning. “You chill with talking on the phone?”

 

“We got no heat, Vanoss, we're good.”

 

“I'm thinking we hit Fleeca. You, me, and someone else. I'm thinking Brock. But like, this needs to be a quiet mission, just between us three and Sark.”

 

“Fleeca?” Lui chuckles a bit. “Place is easy, and I already got some crazy plans for it. Let me come by tomorrow, yeah? We can talky talk then.”

 

“Coolios,” Evan says, saying goodbye to Lui before hanging up. Slowly, he stands, moving into the living room where Tyler, Brock, Craig and Marcel have moved the couch and coffee table to the side, putting the air mattress into the middle of the room. They've lined up in a row on the mattress, beer and pizza in arms reach, all four heads turned up to the T.V where a Call of Duty match is being fought. He's smiles a bit, glad that Mini woke him up from his huge nap.

 

 

\--- - ---- - ----- -

 

 

Evan _really_ fucked up his sleeping schedule. Sure, he may have gotten drunk with the others last night, but that didn't fix the fact that he slept the entire day away. Now, everyone else is asleep, and he's left alone on the balcony at 9 in the morning, a headache pounding through his skull. He's decided to, once again, just skip getting much needed sleep, planning on running a full day today regardless of if he's tired or not.

 

Brock wakes up a couple of hours later, calling Evan in the middle of a workout at the gym. He steps into the bathroom of the gym and answers the call.

 

“Where did you go?” Brock sleepily asks.

 

“Gym,” Evan answers. “Should've left a note, I forgot. I'll be home in like an hour.”

 

“Don't overwork yourself,” Brock tells him, giving a small goodbye as Evan hangs up.

 

He finishes in an hour, just like he told Brock, and he heads home, surprised that there's no one to be seen in the apartment. He goes to the room, waving to the older that sits in his bed, laptop in his lap.

 

“Where's the crew?” Evan asks, grabbing some clean clothes.

 

“Craig is working a later shift, and Tyler and Marcel are out getting Marcel some car mods.”

 

“I gotta talk to you,” Evan tells Brock, Brock sitting up a bit straighter in his bed. Evan wrings the clothes around in his hands a bit, eyes falling to Brock's thigh, then back up to Brock's face. “Can you work?”

 

“Like, work-work?”

 

“Heist,” Evan says.

 

“Probably?” Brock says with confusion. Evan nods, tapping his fingers against the clothes in his hands.

 

“Lui is gonna come help plan today. We're going for Fleeca, but this is just hush hush. Between us three.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don't want anyone fucking it up,” Evan sighs, rubbing the back of his head. It's true, really. The thought of trying to hit such a small place with four people seems like a prison sentence in itself, and the thought of Delirious finding out and trying to sabotage the job makes him feel worse. Brock doesn't seem to feel the same way, raising his eyebrow.

 

“But.. won't I fuck it up? Evan, as far as we know, I'm permanently damaged from that shot. I'm probably the number one fuck up for a job right now, so why do you want me?”

 

Evan shakes his head a bit. “It's different. I.. trust you. More than the others and shit. You aren't gonna fuck it up. If you don't want to, that's fine.. Just... Keep it in mind, and keep it quiet.”

 

The owl turns and heads into the bathroom without exchanging any other words, running his fingers through his hair.

 

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

 

Lui pretty much let himself in, Evan almost shitting himself when the other showed up in his bedroom doorway. He really needs to lock the front door.

 

“Where's everyone?” Lui asks, leaning against the doorframe.

 

“Out,” Evan replies blandly, standing from his bed. “Brock is showering.”

 

“He joining?”

 

Evan only shakes his head with a shrug. He really wasn't sure if Moo was going to help, but he doesn't blame the older. He shouldn't have even asked, taking his injuries into consideration. Lui nods.

 

“I'll find someone else. You got a place to talk?”

 

Evan leads Lui to the planning room, closing the door behind them. The other three haven't returned from their errands and job, but just in case, he'd like everything to be kept inside this room.

 

“So, what have you got?” Evan asks, sitting on the table as Lui commandeers his office chair, spinning it around a few times.

 

“Well, nothing too much yet, actually,” Lui shrugs. “I've stalked into their shit a bit, and they aren't getting anything worth of value for about a week.”

 

There's another small noise, and Evan lifts his head, actually surprised when he sees Brock limping through the door, closing it behind him. Lui gives him a wave, and Brock waves back. Evan can't quite put his finger on it, but the fact that Brock still showed up makes him happy on the inside. He can't help the small smile that curves his lips.

 

“What happened, man?” Lui nods to Brock's leg, standing from the office chair for Brock to take.

 

“Cop,” Brock replies, taking a seat. Lui makes a small sound of disgust, turning his nose up to the air in some sort of annoyed response. Brock giggles a bit at the response, turning his head up to Evan. “What did I miss?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah it was p bad
> 
> chapters from now on (if i get through this gammy writers block that is ugh) should HOPEFULLY be a bit longer, more detailed, more... Evan's thoughts-y. Ive realized i'm writing more like a darn theater kid rather than an english student (damn you, 4 years of drama class) in relation to the fact that this is more of "look he says something, now people do something, look someone said something else" kind of writing fashion, and i want it to be more of an actual story, more thoughts coming from Evan, just more general hoopla, so i hope that wont bother you.
> 
> "if you use noglas intro in you beginning note shouldnt he be in the story" dont worry he is it's just not his time yet chill
> 
> thank you for the fat read, and i'll see you within the next 48 hours with a hopefully better developed chapter to redeem this one!!!


	19. Magnets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldnt really think of a title so i just named it after the thing that made me giggle the most while writing this
> 
> here's a slightly edited chapter, a bit longer than normal, but it really isn't as long as id like it to be (there wasn't much more for me to add, tbh) and yaaaaay Lui isn't trying to kill Vanoss this time:33
> 
> and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

“Bonds?” Evan repeats after Lui, earning nothing but a nod. Yeah, Evan understands bonds, but it doesn't help him understand why Lui believes they'd get come big bucks for stealing a few documents. It doesn't seem important, just annoying. “Why would we even get money for that?”

 

“Sark has more details,” Lui waves him off, uncapping a dry-erase marker and doodling across the board. “Apparently these are some FIB, blackmail material, hidden-from-the-public kinda things. Which will be even better, because if they aren't supposed to be known by the general public, they aren't going to be reported on as much.”

 

“That makes sense,” Brock adds, looking up to Vanoss again. “If they're being hidden, they're probably dirty cop material.”

 

“I suppose,” Evan nods, looking up to the ceiling with thought. The FIB is definitely known by various crews around the city for their dirty work, so it doesn't surprise Evan that people are willing to pay big money for their chance to expose the Bureau. But bonds? Evan just can't wrap his head around why the bonds themselves would be _so damn important. “_ So, when exactly are these Bonds gonna come through?”

 

Lui takes a second to think, finishing the googly eyes on his doodle of what looks to be Banana Bus Squad. “I think he said around the 11th, but there's a catch.”

 

“What's the catch?” Brock pouts.

 

“It's in the Vault, with a huge ass door like they got in that Pacific Standard bank. Key code changes all the damn time. It's gonna be in one of the deposit boxes for a while, before it's moved back to the states. We maybe got a 2 day window to snatch up those little papers.”

 

“That's not a big window,” Brock mumbles.

 

“Yeah, but we've almost got two weeks to plan this,” Evan smiles to the older. “We take it easy, think this through, and we have some dough.”

 

“Remember, Owl Man, I've got a plan already hatching,” Lui turns a bit to Evan, tapping his head lightly with the marker, a smug grin spread across his lips. Evan raises an eyebrow. “It's crazy, you're gonna love it. Ready?”

 

“Yes, Lui,” Evan sighs.

 

“Ready-Ready?” Lui winks, obviously trying to get on Evan's nerves. Evan just stares at him, giving him what the crew calls his “unimpressed-parent-who-just-saw-a-video-of-his-daughter-twerking-at-the-highschool-prom-on-a-random-guy” look (Which, in reality, is just his resting bitch face. Spoiler: He looks _extremely_ unimpressed.) Lui jumps back playfully, laughing at the look. “Man, those are some dagger stares! Alright Owl Man, four words: Cargobob, Giant Magnet, Kuruma.”

 

Evan just blinks slowly, both he and Brock staring at the other in confusion. Lui tsks like a child, turning towards the two with an almost offended look.

 

“What? You don't like it?”

 

“What's there to like? You just gave us four words,” Brock laughs a bit, earning an eye roll from Lui. Evan just keeps staring, questioning look on his face still.

 

“Okay, you guys get in a Kuruma, get there, get the shit, speed North towards Zancudo, and on the bridge, BAM! Cargobob with a Magnet here to pick you motherfuckers up and fly off into the sunset.”

 

Evan almost laughs, the plan sounds so ridiculous. Not only is it dangerous, but it sounds like something that you'd do in a video game heist, and Lui's just ripped them off. Brock spins around in the office chair, shaking his head the entire time.

 

“That's never going to work,” Brock says. “We'd never be able to get picked up from the road fast enough.”

 

“Even if we did,” Evan adds, pulling his legs up onto the table to sit crisscross. “I don't think Physics would allow it. All that rocking and shit is gonna knock us right into the bottom of the helicopter, and we'll be taking those Bonds to the bottom of the Pacific.”

 

“Faith!” Lui thrusts the marker into the air. “You think I haven't looked into this before bringing it up, huh? I thought you knew me better. If the car and the Heli go the same speed during lift off, we'd be able to fly with minimal tossage and whatnot. Smoooooth sailing.”

 

“This sounds ridiculous,” Evan groans, rubbing his face with his hands. Lui crosses his arms across his chest.

 

“Then what do you got, Vanoss? Anything better?”

 

Evan peeks through his fingers at Lui, and there's a moment of silence between the two while a grin spreads across Lui's face again. Evan sighs and drops his hands. This better be worth dragging Brock into.

 

“We need a Kuruma. We'll probably have to steal one,” Lui taps on his leg with the marker.

 

“I got one!” Brock raises his hand.

 

“Moo-Moo, you're gonna get tracked if you use your own.”

 

“Hey!” Evan and Brock both yelp in unison, all three looking between each other in confusion.

 

Brock looks to Lui after a second, quietly saying “Moo-Moo is Evan's personal nickname. You can't use it.”

 

Evan nods with Brock, an embarrassed flush turning his neck and cheeks a faint pink when Lui chuckles a bit to them.

 

“Couple names, okay. I get it, that's chill.”

 

Evan shakes his head quickly. “Wait, no, it's just a--”

 

“It's a secret with me~” Lui taunts, snickering at the embarrassed looks on the other two faces. Evan grumbles a bit, trying to rub the blush from his cheeks. Lui should just use his Squeaker personality all the time, in Evan's opinion, because all he is is a child. But then again, Evan believes they all are, in some way or another.

 

Brock clears his throat. “My Kuruma isn't actually mine, if it's any difference. It was stolen, no plates or registration, fully armored, only used for jobs. Sweet Green and Blue spray, too,” Brock brags to the other.

 

“Well, you're gonna have to paint that before the heist, if you really want to use it,” Lui tells him, snickering when Brock's shoulder's drop in disappointment.

 

“But it's so pretty,” Brock mumbles, Evan leaning over and patting the other on the shoulder lightly.

 

“I know it's hard to let go,” Evan jokes, getting nothing from Brock but a playful glare.

 

“So, you can hack, right Moo?” Lui gestures to Brock with the marker. Brock nods a bit. “Good, because that's my only idea of how to get in there. Sark can help though, too.”

 

“I can talk to him,” Brock shrugs. “Gonna need some advice from him anyway.”

 

“If we hack in the door before we even get there, they're gonna call someone,” Evan adds, looking towards one of the city maps on the wall. “Fleeca is a bit from here, they'll report the door malfunctioning before we hit the highway.”

 

“Hide out,” Lui suggests with a shrug. “There's a little parking lot next door you can hide out at.”

 

Evan only shakes his head. An armored car lingering next to a bank for more than a few minutes is guaranteed to attract unwanted attention. A sudden idea hits him. “Can you hack on the way there?”

 

“Probably,” Moo nods. “I'll need help from Sark.”

 

“That's fine. I think it'll be better for me to drive anyway, with the whole...” Evan gestures to Brock's leg, and the older nods.

 

Lui looks at Brock's clothed thigh for a moment before looking up again. “He should be on crowd control. Not too much moving, but gotta make sure you bring the tellers from where the panic buttons are.”

 

Evan snatches his phone from his pocket, pulling his knees up to his chest while he scrolls through his contacts. He stops on Sark, calling the number and setting it on speaker, the other two turning towards him. Evan peeks at the time, hoping Sark is on break or not even working. 5 _:17 pm._

 

It takes a few rings, but Sark eventually answers. “Is this work or chat?”

 

“Work,” Evan huffs lightly. “Can you come by?”

 

“No,” Sark deadpans. “I'm closing early, come in tonight.”

 

“Kay,” Evan shrugs, tapping the screen and hanging up. “Lets put this on pause, we'll catch up with Sark.”

 

“Cool,” Lui shrugs, and Brock just nods a bit.

 

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

 

“Fleeca, huh?” Sark grunts, skimming over the multiple papers the three have brought to the shop. Evan pulls out a chair from the table for Moo, then sits on said table nearest to the older. Lui enters from the front of the shop, giving the other three a thumbs up for locking up the shop. “This shouldn't be too hard. I've got some idea for it already, actually.”

 

“Apparently everyone but us does,” Evan sighs, getting a small smile from Sark.

 

“What do you guys have already planned out?”

 

“We're using the big magnet!” Lui squeaks in his annoying voice. “And a Kuruma. And a Hacker. And a Cargobob. And--” Lui pauses before shrugging, returning to his normal voice. “That's all we got.”

 

“Please don't drop my favorites into the Pacific,” Sark squints towards Lui. Evan smiles a bit. “Brock is hacking, I assume?”

 

“Yeah,” Both Evan and Brock reply.

 

“How do we get into the deposit box?” Lui asks Sark, kicking his feet against the floor.

 

“Well, easiest way to do it without destroying the bonds would be a drill,” Sark shrugs. “I can get one for you guys within a few days, but then gathering up anything else would be all on you.”

 

“Is there a way I can get through their systems on the way there?” Brock asks.

 

“Of course. I'll talk one on one with you closer to showtime.”

 

“So, get in the Kuruma, hack it and open the Vault before we get there, control the crowd and drill the deposit box, then drive like crazy to the bridge and get picked up by a magnet,” Evan runs through, earning nods from the other three. “This magnet shit is gonna be the death of us.”

 

“If it helps any, I've seen him do it before,” Sark explains, clapping a hand on Lui's shoulder. “Lui's a great pilot, alright? It'll go smoothly.”

 

Evan sighs, nodding his head a bit. He trusts Sark, really, but damn him if Lui didn't just pull these ideas out of a fucking video game or something. Part of him agrees 100% with it. They have ways they could minimize the amount of rocking and swaying of the car beneath, to prevent them from dropping or even hurting the helicopter. But part of him knows this is a stupid fucking idea, and for all he knows, he could be sentencing Brock to death.

 

“Bonds are coming in on the 11th, leaving to be taken to the states on the 13th. Showtime is on the 11th, got it?” Sark looks between the three, smiling when all three heads nod to him. “Anything else?”

 

“Security?” Brock asks.

 

“Cameras, there's about a two minute delay from those to the LSPD. If this is going to be quick, you might as well just blast the cameras when you get in there.”

 

Evan and Brock nod a bit. When no one else speaks up, Sark stands up straight, shoving the papers back into the folder and handing it to Evan. “I'll text you when I've got the drill. Get the Magnet, Bob and Kuruma, plus some major armor in case shit goes bonkers. I'm sure Lui has somewhere for the chopper, but the Kuruma and Magnet can hide out at the Oil Rig.”

 

Evan stands still while Brock takes a grip on his forearm, using the owl to pull himself out of the chair. Sark stops them before the three exit.

 

“I'm glad to see the kiddos getting along now,” He grins, gesturing between Lui and Evan. The two laugh a bit, unable to forget how they met in the first place. Sure, Lui may have tried to straight up slit his throat the first few seconds of meeting each other, but now that the tension has died down, there may actually be a connection between the two. Hopefully a good one.

 

Lui and the two crew members part ways once outside the Ammunation, the Osiris headed south while Evan and Brock go back into Vinewood. The apartment is once again crowded when the two return, Craig having just got home from work, Marcel and Tyler returned from their little car mission. Craig is the first to greet them, snuggling his curled up body into Tyler's side, Wildcat wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Tyler nods a bit to them, huffing at how Craig has him squished into the arm of the furniture. Marcel waves from the other side of the couch.

 

“How was your date?” Craig teases. Marcel and Tyler snicker, but both Evan and Brock are not amused.

 

“It wasn't a date, we had errands,” Evan responds, squinting when Tyler scoffs lightly. “How was Tyler and Marcel's date while Craig took a different shift?”

 

Craig looks up at Tyler, staring daggers right at him. Tyler just stares back, slowly taking his arm from around Craig. Marcel pulls his legs off of Craig's lap, squishing himself up on the other end of the couch. Evan smirks, Brock snickering quietly behind him.

 

“Date?” Craig asks.

 

“We were just getting car mods!” Tyler defensively says, Marcel rapidly nodding along with Tyler. Both Broth and Evan use this opportunity to sneak off to their bedroom, laughing a bit with each other once behind closed doors.

 

“You think he's actually upset?” Brock ask.

 

“Nah,” Evan shrugs. “Craig knows better. Besides, if he _actually_ thought they went on a date, he'd make _much_ more of a scene.”

 

It's only around nine in the evening, but Evan's eyelids still feel heavy with exhaustion. Brock flops over into his own bed, watching as Evan just stands in the middle of the room for a few seconds.

 

“you didn't sleep last night, did you?” Brock raises an eyebrow. Evan just sighs and shakes his head, kicking off his shoes and falling into his own bed.

 

“You're taking shit care of yourself, you know,” Brock sighs, shaking his head when all Evan does is groan with a reply. “Go to sleep. I'm putting you on a sleeping schedule.”

 

“Not a child,” Evan says quietly, not bothering to get into any pajamas before snuggling himself under the blankets. He turns on his side, back to Brock, and neither of them say anything while Vanoss quickly drifts off to sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> accidental tiny vanoo moments sorry im rly feeling it 
> 
> thank you for reading and i'll see you guys within the next couple of daysss xux


	20. Patience, Patience, Patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello this is a bit later than expected and i apologize, my mind went on a short vacay and I forgot that i need to actually UPLOAD the chapters I write lmao
> 
> this is pretty much a filler, mostly because I realized that craig still has NO FUCKING CLUE what a lot of this shit is about, but also because this story needs a bit more craig and marcel in general
> 
> i also impulsively added another character to the story because i felt like it was a good idea, but i dont think they'll change the story up too much, if any at all.
> 
> general adorableness and drinking is involved in this chapter, but none of it is overbearing
> 
> and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

It's now the 7th of September, and for some reason, Evan's never felt so alone. Well, in reality, Evan knows why he's felt this way, but he's trying hard to convince himself it isn't.

 

Brock's been out a lot the past few days; getting together with Sark for help with readying themselves for Fleeca, going with Droid to a friend's Mod Shop back and forth, taking care of his own errands. When he's home, he's tired, using up a majority of his time to cuddle himself up in his bed. Sometimes Evan completely misses seeing him, being asleep when Brock gets home late, then having to leave to take care of his own errands while Brock is still asleep the next morning. He feels clingy, so he tries his best to resist climbing into the older's bed at night, but he's finding that he isn't sleeping as well as he'd like.

 

Evan's had to keep the other three off the scent of Fleeca as well, the others questioning the lack of Brock and Evan's company during the day. All Evan can tell them is that they're just getting busy, coming up with ideas for the crew to take part in and whatnot. They seem to buy it, but Evan's just grateful that showtime is soon, because Craig is one nosy bastard.

 

He's not surprised when he enters his apartment after a trip to the gym and sees everyone but Brock. Well, almost everyone. Tyler is napping out on the air mattress while Craig is lounged out on the couch, the faint sound of the shower in the guest bathroom hinting at the fact that Marcel is inside. Craig and Evan exchange waves but nothing else, Evan heading to the bedroom and changing into his pajamas. It isn't late or anything- in fact, the sun is still up, but with nothing else to occupy his time today, he makes himself comfortable. He brings his phone with him on a little trip to the kitchen, grabbing one of the gogurts from the fridge and stepping out onto the balcony.

 

He spends a few minutes by himself, eating from the plastic tube and staring out at the city, legs crossed beneath him. The balcony door opens after a few moments, and he turns his head a bit to see Craig coming to join him, a beer in each hand. Evan accepts one of the drinks and waits to greet Mini until he's closed the door and sat next to him.

 

“What's up?” Craig asks, taking a seat on the ground with him. Evan just shrugs a bit, twisting the cap off the bottle.

 

“What's up with you?” Evan asks, smiling a little bit when all Craig does is shrug as well. There's a pause as the two sip their drinks.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Mini asks. Evan raises an eyebrow, feeling a nosy Mini question coming on.

 

“You can ask what you want, but I can't guarantee an answer.”

 

Craig huffs a bit, leaning back on one hand. “It's probably personal, but.. What happened? With... Everything?”

 

“Specific,” Evan squints a bit at the other.

 

Mini huffs again, shifting in his spot nervously. Evan watches him for a moment, taking another drink. “Since we quit all of our little... high school gang shit. Because obviously a lot has happened, but Tyler won't legit tell me.”

 

Evan groans a bit, very not wanting to get into stupid shit. He's already feeling emotionally drained, he doesn't need to keep thinking about stupid shit. Craig shakes his head, making a small sound of disagreement.

 

“Why do you want to know?” Evan sighs.

 

“I'm your friend, and I'm your crew mate. I'm worried about you, Evan. I don't know what, but something's changed about you in the past, like... year.”

 

Evan eyes Mini cautiously, taking a small drink to stall. Mini just watches him, and Evan eventually gives in. With a sigh, he turns his body towards Craig, the two sitting knees-to-knees on the balcony floor. Craig smiles a little at him. “Where should I start?”

 

“Well, you could always tell me what happened with...”

 

Craig trails off, but Evan gets the idea. He rubs his forehead a bit, all the thoughts beginning to buzz around in his mind.

 

“I don't really know,” Evan sighs. “Delirious was with us when we began Banana Bus, but after we became the official crew, he just... Got weird. He was distant and aggressive and just a complete dick.” Evan shrugs a bit while he takes another drink, shoving his thumb nail underneath the corners of the bottle's label. “We were at his apartment one day, after a job, and he just... pulled a gun on me. He tried to kill me for the bounties I've been getting on my head. I don't know what the fuck his deal is..”

 

“After that, he disappeared. Just... Gone. We were so sure that he left Los Santos.. Maybe went to North Carolina again.. Turns out he's just been hiding, working with Terroriser.” Evan takes another drink, giving Craig a minute to understand what he's been told. Craig takes a drink of his own beer, clearing his throat afterwards.

 

“So, you and Brock then--”

 

“Me and Brock _nothing,_ ” Evan huffs, turning his head away from the Brit to look at the city. He doesn't _dislike_ that people think they're a thing, but one of Evan's biggest pet peeves is people believing in something that isn't true; in this case, that something is Brock having the same feelings towards the owl. Craig is silent for a moment.

 

“He likes you.”

 

“Don't say shit like that,” Evan mumbles.

 

“You're so fucking oblivious,” Craig groans. Evan squints at the other, taking a drink. “Tell me about Adam and Anthony.”

 

Evan closes his eyes and groans, but Craig pokes annoyingly at his leg. “I need to know these things!”

 

“Fine!” Evan yelps, swatting his hand away. “Shit, you're like the annoying little brother I never asked for.”

 

“You love me,” Craig waves his hand dismissively. “Spit it out.”

 

“Well,” Evan leans back on his hand a bit, looking up at the sky above them. “Sark has been really good friends with Chilled for like, YEARS. Chilled didn't start doing work-work for Sark until recently, though. Adam and Sark met like.... Two years ago? They became friends, and Adam and Sark went into Crew biz, then they dragged Chilled in. Adam and Chilled kinda.... To put it simply, they fell in love at first sight.”

 

Craig makes a small “Awwww” noise, but Evan shushes him.

 

“I don't know why they never started officially dating, but I guess it really doesn't matter. Marcel and I were escorting Chilled to the east last month, and we stopped by a corner store, and that's when we found out that Adam was working with Terroriser. Apparently, even before Sark and him did business, he was with Terroriser. I don't even know. But he isn't here now, and if he shows up, Anthony is going to break his neck.”

 

“Huh,” Craig huffs, looking out at the city. “Pleasant.”

 

“You should've seen how angry Sark was,” Evan sighs, shaking his head a bit. “Chilled kinda... Broke down. That's why he was out for a while.”

 

“No shit,” Craig says. “He's still giggly and everything, but... I dunno. I think he really IS broken.”

 

Evan shrugs, putting the empty bottle on the ground next to him. Craig finishes off his own drink, looking out at the City again. The sun has finally started to set, and Evan gulps at the sentence that continuously looms over him.

 

“ _He likes you.”_

 

Evan and Craig look at the door when they hear it open, Marcel stepping onto the porch, holding a few beer bottles in his arms. Craig and Evan laugh a little, the two taking the bottles from him to give him a chance to close the balcony door. “I didn't interrupt anything, did I?” He asks.

 

“Just catching up on the crew shit,” Craig shrugs, and Evan nods.

 

“I'll be quiet,” Marcel sits next to the two, grabbing one of the cold bottles and twisting the cap off. Evan and Craig smile at him, opening their own bottles.

 

“Okay, so what about Lui?” Craig asks after a drink.

 

“Remember us talking about the Canal job?” Craig nods a bit. “Well, it was between the Vagos and Terroriser's people. When we went in and shot up the place, we shot a guy named Droid, who's Lui's... Boyfriend? Husband? I don't even know. They're together, basically, and Lui got pissed. The only reason I'm not dead is because Sark was there, and Lui trusts Sark.”

 

“What the fuck is Sark even?” Craig asks in an annoyed voice. “Why does EVERYONE know Sark outside of Ponsonby's besides me??”

 

Evan and Marcel laugh a bit at that. Marcel is the one to answer this time. “He's like a legit business man. Uses Ammunation to give him some sorta background or some shit, but he's all up in illegal trading and gambling and all that shit.”

 

“He's our boss, basically,” Evan adds. “Even though I'm _technically_ Banana Bus' leader, I still consult him with a lot of shit, to get his approval.”

 

“He helped us get started,” Marcel says.

 

“Sounds like Sark is the daddy,” Craig mumbles into his bottle as he takes another drink, the three laughing at that.

 

Evan's phone chimes, and he quickly slides it from his pocket, glancing at the screen.

 

Sark: _Guess whos got the driiiiiiiiiill. Passenger side back seat, kuruma, oil rig._

 

Evan slides his phone into his pocket again, checking that off the list in his mind. He's heard nothing from Lui on either the Magnet or Cargobob, and he just hopes that Lui's gotten everything together. He'll probably call Lui soon.

 

“How's flying going?” Evan asks, looking to Marcel.

 

“Oh man,” Marcel smiles, shaking his head. “Shit's so much fun. Lui is just as fucking awesome as I thought he'd be.”

 

“Someone's a fanboy,” Craig says.

 

“How can I not??” Marcel laughs. “I've never even seen a lot of the shit that he's teaching me to fly and drive. Shit's awesome. He's pretty chillax, too. So is Droid. Man, wait until Scotty hears about all this..”

 

Marcel stares ahead at the city, taking a drink from his beer. He's smiling, but Evan can tell he's upset. There's some sort of dullness to his eyes that Evan can't help but notice, but he shrugs it off as the glare from the sun.

 

“How is Scotty?” Craig asks, lowering his voice to Marcel. Marcel sighs and shrugs, turning the bottle in his fingers.

 

“Still locked up... He should be out this time in two years, though, so that's a plus.”

 

“Are you gonna go see him for Christmas?” Evan asks.

 

“I've been thinking about it,” Marcel smiles a bit. “I'll bring him a magazine or something. But the place he's locked at is getting bitchy about visitors, so I wouldn't be surprised if I'm turned away at the fuckin' door.”

 

Even though Evan's never met Scotty, he likes him. Marcel always talks about how unfair Scotty's sentence was, how it should've been a perfect plan. From what Evan understands, Scotty was taken down after an attempted assassination on some CEO of a huge financial corporation, who was cheating everyone out of their money, including employees. He'd degrade his workers, give them little pay if any at all, steal money from the profit he was earning to use on his overwhelming drug habits. All the stolen funds and dirty business practices left Scotty's mom and siblings homeless, and with the CEO constantly paying people off, Scotty tried to take it into his own hands.

 

“What the fuck is goin' on out here?” Tyler's voice startles the three, all heads turning to see Tyler's drowsy face poking out the balcony door. Craig reaches an arm behind him and reaches for Tyler, hinting for the older to come out. With a tired groan, Tyler joins the three on the balcony, taking a seat next to Craig. Craig leans a majority of his body onto the older.

 

“Just a little hangout with everyone, apparently,” Marcel smiles while taking another drink. Evan just sips on his own beer.

 

_'Everyone but Brock.'_

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

“Ev..? Evvvvvvv.”

 

Evan scrunches his nose up a bit, burying his face into the pillow beneath him. The person near him huffs lightly, tapping at the back of his head. “Ev, pleeeease?”

 

Evan slowly peaks an eye out from his pillow, squinting through the darkness of the bedroom. His eyes first glance at the person standing at the side of the bed, just barely able to make out the outline with his tired eyes. He glances to the clock, scrunching up his nose again in confusion. _2:13 am._

 

“Ev,” The voice says again, and Evan slowly realizes it's Brock's voice he's been hearing. Evan turns on his side and looks up at Brock, finally able to make out his facial features.

 

“Hi,” Evan grumbles, rubbing at his eyes. “What's up?”

 

“This is weird,” Brock says to him, a yawn creating a moment of silence. “Can I sleep in your bed?”

 

Evan blinks a bit, staring at the other through half lidded eyes. Brock almost makes puppy eyes towards the other, and Evan nods a bit.

 

“Yeah, sure,” He mumbles, scooting himself closer to the wall, giving Brock space to climb in. Brock lays facedown on the bed, huffing lightly into the pillow. Evan's still trying to wrap his mind around Brock being home finally, but he's definitely still confuse as to why Brock is wanting to sleep in his bed. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Brock sighs. “Tired. Marcel and Tyler are passed out, and Craig is all tipsy and tired and shit, so I just came in here.”

 

“Cool,” Evan sighs a bit, letting his head fall onto his own pillow again, eyes slowly closing. Neither of the two say anything else to each other, and Evan's asleep quickly, sleeping much harder than he was before Brock came in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scotty is a hero because it's the thought that counts
> 
> next chapter is heist time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :0
> 
> also seriously thank you to everyone who's enjoying this story so far it's really awesome that you guys are finding my lame stream of words and shitty ideas enjoyable and i hope that it continues to make you wanna read to the end!!! you guys are p cool and i hope that anything else i write will be as liked as this one currently is (and it isnt even finished!!) <3 see you in the nextttttttt~


	21. Fleeeeeeeeeeca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this definitely couldve been written better but yknow 
> 
> it wasnt
> 
> the title pretty much says it all, and theres not much to warn about other than hardcore game physics rather than real life physics, so----
> 
> also, i gotta say, its really fun torturing you guys with Vanoo kisses, i feel like an overlord of some sort >:3 (dont worry i wont be mean for too much longer). And as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

_It's showtime. Oil Field._

 

Evan kicks the blankets off, rolling his eyes at the annoyed groan next to him. Evan turns a bit, smiling a little at Brock's sleeping face on the pillow next to him. He turns again, moving the blinds of the window a bit to see the outside world, but he quickly shuts it after sunlight practically destroys his eyes. He huffs, rubbing his eyes a bit as he shoves his phone into his shorts pocket. He isn't ready for this heist, but he doesn't have a choice.

 

He taps on the back of Brock's head lightly, not trying too hard to wake the older up. Though the tapping is faint, Brock stirs a bit, cracking his eyes open a bit to look up at Evan.

 

“Hmm..?” Brock hums, Evan taking his hand away.

 

“Showtime,” Evan says quietly. Brock only hums and nods, rubbing his eyes.

 

Evan slowly crawls over the other, dragging himself to the bathroom. He's definitely tired, so he splashes the coldest water he can onto his face, trying to get himself hyped for the heist, but he only makes himself cold. Evan comes from the bathroom to see Brock tossing their heist clothing onto Evan's bed, waving a little when he sees Evan.

 

“Craig is working, Tyler's asleep and Marcel's out,” He tells Evan, getting a nod in response.

 

Brock and Evan work on getting what guns and clothes they'll need in a dufflebag, Evan flinging it over his shoulder after he's gotten his shoes on. Brock turns to leave, but Evan stops him quickly, a nervous look on his face.

 

“If we die,” Evan says. “You're pretty cool.”

 

“You're fucking lame,” Brock laughs, getting a pout from the other. Brock puts a hand on his shoulder, giving him a soft smile. “We're gonna be okay. Besides, if we die, we'll die together,” He shrugs. Evan only nods a bit.

 

Evan and Brock quietly exit the apartment, getting in Evan's Zentorno and riding to the east. Both Lui and Sark are already at the oil field, sitting on the hood of the Kuruma, a cigarette between Sark's lips. Evan's the first out of the car, moving to the passenger's side and taking the Dufflebag from Brock's lap, then offering his hand to help the older from the car. Brock uses Evan to pull himself from his seat, the two turning to face Sark and Lui as they walk up.

 

“Get ready, then we can go over everything, and then the show can begin,” Sark smiles big at them, shifting his Aviators on his nose and tucking his cigarette back between his lips. Evan and Brock nod, closing themselves in one of the store rooms on the site, Evan turning his back to the older as they quickly change into their heist clothing. Brock hums to grab Evan's attention, the other turning and quickly catching the Owl mask that's tossed to him. He mumbles a thanks to Brock.

 

Lui's climbed on top of Evan's zentorno, legs crossed, waving at the two when they come from the room. Evan squints.

 

“If you fuck up the roof, you're fixing it,” Evan grumbles to Lui.

 

“Are you calling me fat?” Lui squeaks down to Evan.

 

“Ladies, please,” Brock rolls his eyes, limping to the Zentorno and opening the Passenger's side, taking a seat inside. Evan just rolls his eyes.

 

“Okay,” Sark claps his hands together, rubbing them together while he takes a drag of the cigarette on his lips, blowing the smoke through his nose. “Big day, kiddos. You're about to help expose some of the most corrupt companies in the Nation. Ready?”

 

The three nod, turning all their attention to the oldest. “Moo, you're one of the biggest tools for this heist. I- _We,_ need you on your A Game, the best you can get. That door has gotta be open as soon as you guys get there. This needs to be fast, and clean. When you two leave from here, you need to focus on that hacking, because you'll be on their doorstep faster than you think. Open the Vault, and both of you get in there. Vanoss, you're gonna pull those tellers out into the open, and Moo's gonna take out those cameras, then take care of the hostages. Vanoss, you're gonna take the drill to the vault, box 306, and use the drill to just murder that lock. Grab the papers, and get back in that car. Vanoss, you can still drive like a maniac, for sure?”

 

“I mean,” Evan mumbles, nodding a bit. “Yeah. Kuruma should be easier to race in than a Zentorno, so it shouldn't be too difficult. Besides, Moo's got it all pimped out.”

 

Brock smiles smugly, giving the two a thumbs up. Sark nods a bit.

 

“Hopefully you two can get the box quick enough to where the police aren't gonna have enough time to set up road blocks. Get to the bridge, by any means necessary, and from there-”

 

“MegaMonkey!!” Lui squeaks loudly, throwing his arms in the air. Sark nods, gesturing to Lui. The shopkeeper tosses the cigarette on the ground before stomping it out, adjusting his Aviators on his face.

 

“Lui will bring you to the shore, way up near Paleto. I'll be there with your car, and we'll all trade off, and go separate ways. All four of us have ear pieces, so don't hesitate to communicate. Got it?”

 

Evan and Brock nod, Lui humming in agreement. Lui jumps from the roof of the car and Sark moves to the Driver's side, Evan holding his arm out for Brock to pull himself up with. Evan leans into the car and hands Sark the keys, moving with Brock to the Kuruma. Lui climbs into the Zentorno with Sark, the two pulling out of the oil field. Brock slides into the passenger's seat, pulling his phone from his pocket.

 

“Ready?” Evan asks from the seat next to him. Brock nods a bit, already working his magic. Evan pulls out of the field and onto the road, trying not to let his adrenaline completely overwhelm him before they even get there. His nails ever so lightly dig and prod at the steering wheel, giving him something to do while he lets Brock think.

 

The drive is completely quiet, aside from a huff of frustration from Brock every now and then. General paranoia begins to annoyingly buzz in Evan's head, causing him to shrink down in his seat each time a police car passes by. They haven't even _done_ anything yet, but Evan's still trying to avoid the LSPD. Brock's too focused on his own work to say anything to him.

 

They're a few moments from the Bank when Brock gasps happily, tapping rapidly on his phone screen. Evan peeks at him a bit, returning his eyes to the road.

 

“It's ready,” Brock tells him.

 

Evan pulls the car into the small parking lot just next to the Fleeca, not turning the car off while he puts it in park. Brock tugs his mask onto his head, reminding Evan to do the same. The Owl reaches behind Brock's seat, grabbing a hold of the bag containing both the weapons, and the drill. Carefully, Evan pulls out one of the Rifles, handing it to Brock. He pulls the second one out for himself, putting the bag onto his shoulder.

 

“Ready?” Brock asks.

 

“Yeah,” Evan nods his owl mask. Brock nods, typing in a few more things to his phone before tossing the phone onto the floor of the Car, swinging the door open. Evan climbs out of the Kuruma, moving into the bank only as fast as Brock's limp will allow. Evan presses into his ear piece, speaking quietly to the other two on the line. “We're about to bust in.”

 

Once they reach the doors, it's showtime.

 

Evan bursts through the doors, the customer and both bank tellers whipping their heads up towards them. Evan points his gun at the people behind the glass, slowly moving himself towards the door that leads to where the two people are hidden.

 

“Come on, the fuck out!” Evan hollers to them, ripping the door open. The two- a well dressed middle aged man and a younger, just as well dressed woman- quickly do as Evan says, rushing past Evan and to the front of the Bank with their hands behind their head. Brock is quick to shoot down the cameras, nodding quickly to Evan once it's done.

 

The owl runs through the small hallway, slipping through the open vault and into the deposit room. He quickly scans over the numbers, searching for 306 as thoroughly as time will allow. Once he finds it, he pulls the drill from the bag, kneeling in front of the box. A sudden realization hits him, and as he stares at the drill for a moment, he's reminded that he has absolutely no clue what he's doing.

 

He twists the drill in his hand a few times, putting a finger on the small trigger. He gives it a small squeeze, jumping a bit when it begins to viciously whirl.

 

“Okay,” He mumbles to himself, pressing the tip of the drill towards the keyhole. “Totally.”

 

He squeezes the trigger again, flinching when the drill loudly begins shredding through the small lock. He pushes the drill deeper, groaning with confusion when the drill makes a loud whirling noise, then a hum, before stopping it's rotations. Evan pulls the drill from the lock and examines it a bit, slipping a finger into his mask and pressing his earpiece.

 

“Sark, this drill is fucking lame, why isn't it working??”   
  
“ _Forgot to tell you, it's gonna overheat if you push too much,”_ Sark's voice comes through. “ _Try to manage the time._ ”

 

Evan huffs, putting the drill back into the hole and pulling the trigger, pushing forward a bit slower this time. Within a few moments, the box makes a loud pop, signaling that it's been opened. He shoves the drill into the bag, opening the box quickly. There's a thick manila folder inside, papers sticking out haphazardly from it. He snags them quickly, shoving them into the bag underneath the drill, scrambling to grab his gun from the floor and rush out of the room.

 

“Go!” Evan yelps before he's even made it to the lobby, giving Brock enough time quickly hobble to the passenger's side. Evan follows, nodding to the horrified hostages still squeezed up in the corner.

 

Once he's outside, he hears the distant sound of police sirens, and he groans loudly. He hands the bag to Brock, shutting the passenger door before sliding himself across the hood and tucking himself into the driver's seat. Before he can close his door, he catches a glimpse of two speeding police cars, headed right for the parking lot.

 

“Sark, we got it, but police are coming up, we need to go!” Evan says into his ear piece, peeling the Kuruma from the parking lot with a loud screech of the tires.

 

“ _Get to the Bridge, then, idiot!”_

 

Evan's pretty much flooring it when they get on the highway, but the police cars are still just a few feet behind. Loud pings begin to ring in their ears, and it isn't until there's a large crack made in the small visible portion of Evan's window that he realizes they're bullets.

 

Evan leans forward a bit to see through the awkwardly shaped windshield, gulping when he gets full view of a cop car heading almost straight towards them. He quickly sucks in a breath, holding it in as he swerves to the left at last minute, the cop car ahead of them swerving and crashing right into one of the cars that was chasing them. He quickly sets the car straight again, exhaling quickly.

 

“Vanoss, road block,” Brock tells him, pointing forward. Sure enough, maybe a block before the bridge, there's four police SUVs, parked in a row across the highway, nearly bumper to bumper. There isn't a way to go around the highway from this point, and Evan's quickly running out of time to make a plan. “Vanoss??”

 

“Okay, this is gonna be fucked,” Evan shifts in his seat, gripping the steering wheel. “Hold onto something because we aren't getting through these guys any other way.”

 

“You've gotta be kidding me,” Brock whines, quickly fastening his seat belt.

 

Without ever letting go of the gas, Evan heads straight for the road block, aiming for one of the small spaces between two of the vehicles. The closer they get, the more pings and scratches of bullets they hear through the loud sirens and heart beats, and Evan holds his breath once again. He speeds right into one of the spaces, hitting the bumpers of both SUV's and sending them skidding a bit to the side, their own car swerving to the side. Evan pulls the hand brake, turning the wheel left as much as he can, quickly bringing the car back under control. He lets the hand brake go, stomping on the gas once again as he heads for the bridge.

 

His head is beginning to throb from being thrown around a few moments ago, and the dull pain is enough to almost miss Lui's voice.

 

“ _Damn Owl Man!! Nice driving!! You see me? I'm coming up!”_

 

Evan leans a bit, shaking his head when he sees the Cargobob with attached magnet hanging below it, moving towards the bridge. Brock makes a nervous noise, looking up at the helicopter.

 

“We might get hit by a cop car,” Brock tells Evan. Evan just shakes his head, slowing down the slightest once he gets on the Bridge.

 

“ _Just like that! Don't speed up or slow down, I'm coming in,”_ Lui says to the two. Evan groans a bit with impatience, seeing the cop cars inching closer. Evan's heart is thumping loudly in his chest, both out of fear and adrenaline, but he keeps the Kuruma going just as Lui said, tapping on the steering wheel lightly.

 

There's a sudden loud clank, and the Bridge begins to get lower, Evan and Brock feeling like they're on a boat. Evan yelps and lets go of the steering wheel, quickly turning to look out the window.

 

They're in the air. The motherfuckers are _in the air in a car, on a magnet, under a fucking Cargobob how awesome is this._

 

“What the fuck??” Brock yelps, smile obvious in his voice. Evan laughs a bit, both out of disbelief and general happiness.

 

“This is so fucking stupid,” Evan laughs, watching as they fly quickly away from the bridge, leaving the cop cars behind.

 

“ _You aren't gonna drop my boys, right?”_ Sark says through the ear pieces.

 

“ _I got this, man!”_ Lui squeaks. “ _I'll get these mother truckers to you in one piece!”_

 

“We are NOT doing that again,” Brock turns his head to Evan. Evan nods a bit, holding onto the wheel again, not fond of the rocking motions of the car.

 

“You don't like my racing?” Evan smiles a bit. Brock just rolls his eyes behind his mask.

 

Once they get to the shore, Lui slowly lowers the chopper, hovering the Kuruma a foot or two above the ground.

 

“ _Hop out, I gotta take these places.”_

 

Evan takes the bag from Brock's lap, jumping out from the Driver's side carefully. Brock makes a loud sound of annoyance, and Evan goes to the other side to investigate. Brock's legs are hanging out of the car, but he isn't moving. Evan shrugs up at him.

 

“I need help,” Brock mumbles loud enough to be heard over the Helicopter. Evan smiles behind his mask, holding his arms up to help Brock carefully slide from the car and onto the ground. Sark appears behind the two, jingling Evan's keys.

 

“Good job,” Sark smiles. “I'll have your money soon, stay on your toes, but stay low. I'll bring your Kuruma back in good shape,” Sark pats Brock's shoulder, taking the bag from Evan and signaling for Lui to come closer. The Helicopter lowers even more, laying the car down and almost putting the Helicopter on the Magnet. Sark quickly climbs up and into the Helicopter, waving at the other two as Lui takes off.

 

“Well,” Evan huffs a bit, taking his mask from off his head. “That was fun, huh?”

 

“It was fun, but dangerous,” Brock sighs with a smile, taking his own mask off. The two spend a few moments just staring out at the water, letting their minds and bodies calm down from the rush. Evan stretches his arms above his head, then puts his elbow on Brock's shoulder, leaning on him a bit. Brock smiles at him. “Wanna get Chinese food?”

 

“Hella.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess chinese food is like the crew's godsend or something idek
> 
> see you in the next one~ xux


	22. Move Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> evan is a dumb and doesnt make good decisions because thats just how im writing this apparently
> 
> something to note!!!!: theres a weird timeskip in the chapter like halfway through (you'll know when it is because a wild sark will appear!) and just keep in mind that that's gonna be 2 days after they robbed fleeca,,,,,,, felt like i had to address that because this chapter starts off where last one stopped, but also because this chapter feels super weird to me?????
> 
> aaanyway sit back and enjoy (ANOTHER) filler chapter (and then sit back again because next chapter is also a filler) (but not the one after that) (ill try to make the fillers quick) (but theyre the perfect chances to put in some tooth rotting vanoo and minicat fluff so) and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

“I still can't believe that Chinese place has our regulars on call,” Brock smiles, fiddling with the bag of food he's holding. Evan smiles, shifting the bag he's holding in his own hand.

 

“I can, we go there _too much._ I don't know how we can walk.”

 

It's been maybe an hour since they successfully escaped Fleeca, and they've heard nothing from Sark or Lui. He doesn't really expect to, but he just wants to know they haven't been pulled over by the air police.

 

The second they step into the apartment, Craig's loud voice shrieks at them, almost running the two out the door again.

 

“What the HELL are you two thinking??” The Brit yells, standing from his place on the couch, hands on his hips. “You're gone for HOURS, without a text or a fucking call, and then all we see is YOUR FUCKING MASKS all over the news!!”

 

Tyler groans loudly from the couch, yawning loudly. “What the fuck, babe? Why are you yelling?” He grumbles.

 

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Evan shrugs, putting the bag on the dining room table. Craig glares at him, grabbing the remote to the TV and turning it onto the news.

 

“ _-what LSPD are referring to as a “Flawless Getaway.” Never before seen, a Bank Robbery successfully preformed with the aid of a Military Helicopter, and a large Magnet. The FIB is now conducting a full investigation into every Merryweather Employee and Fort Zancudo operator in search of possible suspects that could have played a part in this heist, shutting down the Military base, as well as practically shutting down the sky,_ ” The newswoman on the TV speaks, looking over a few papers in front of her. “ _The last images we have of the robbers is this, taken before the cameras were shot down._ ”

 

The picture shows Moo, pointing his Rifle up at the Camera, and Vanoss tugging the bank tellers from the door.

 

“ _The two are suspected to be from the street crew 'Banana Bus Squad,' going by the aliases 'Moo Snuckel' and 'Vanoss.' If you have any information on their whereabouts, please don't hesitate-_ ”

 

“You robbed a bank??” Tyler sits up quickly from the couch. Evan and Brock just shrug a bit, Evan pointing at the Chinese food.

 

“Dinner,” Evan smiles. Craig rubs his temples, walking over to the two.

 

“Is this why you two were gone so much?”

 

“Yeah,” Brock shrugs. “We got a lot of money, though.”

 

“Sark will get it to us soon,” Evan smiles.

 

“Why didn't we know?” Tyler asks. Evan just shrugs a bit.

 

Evan's phone starts ringing, and he fishes it from his pocket, answering it when he sees Marcel's name.

 

“Hey-”

 

“ _YOU ROBBED A BANK??”_

 

Evan pulls the phone from his ear, rolling his eyes. “You guys are acting like we don't rob people all the time.”

 

“ _We rob stores, not fucking banks!”_

 

“We have Chinese food,” Evan smiles.

 

There's a quick pause.

 

“ _I'm on my way home.”_

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

Evan's the only one awake again, Craig having work in the morning, both Marcel and Tyler just tired in general, and Brock too exhausted from the Fleeca Job to stay awake longer than 11 pm. Evan spins himself around in the office chair, looking around the heist room out of boredom. He scoots to the desk, and his eyes catch on a paper with all the details of the Vinewood house that Chilled told him about.

 

Tyler and Craig's lease was up a few days ago, resulting in the couple fully moving into the living room. He loves living in the penthouse, but with five people in a one bedroom place, it's becoming a bit too cramped for Evan's taste. He's seen what the _outside_ of the house looks like; on a small hill, huge pool and deck, large garage on the first floor, and a second story with a few huge windows. It looks massive, and paying $700,000 for it is starting to seem like a not-too-shabby idea. Granted, Evan doesn't have much in the way of his own money right now, but he'll pull through.

 

Almost as if he knows, Chilled's name begins ringing Evan's cellphone. He lets it ring once or twice before answering.

 

“Hey,” Evan says.

 

“ _Hey,”_ Chilled replies. “ _So, are you free right now?”_

 

“I mean I'm not doing anything, if that's what you're asking.”

 

“ _I talked to my house guy,”_ Chilled says. “ _He's willing to set up a monthly thing, where you'll be able to pay it off within three years.”_

 

“There's a catch, huh?” Evan hums. Chilled huffs a bit.

 

“ _Not really, just 39 thousand to move in the first month. After that, 19 a month. How bout it?_ ”

 

Evan looks around the heist room, tapping his fingers on his leg lightly in thought. With a small sigh, he nods a bit. “Yeah, I'll do it. Give me a few days though.”

 

“ _Cool,”_ Chilled replies. “ _I'll let him know, and I'll get you his information in a few days. By the way, nice job today.”_

 

“I guess. We didn't die, so...”

 

Chilled laughs a bit at that, a yawn audible from his end. “ _Okay. Just thought I'd check in with you. I'm going to bed, it's too late for this shit. I'll see you later.”_

 

“Later.”

 

Evan hangs the phone up, laying it next to the papers. He sighs loudly, knowing that spending this money will run his bank account completely dry, and then some. For a few moments, he does some simple math on an extra sheet of paper, groaning when the only solution he finds to the money situation is to take almost $30,000 from what they'll have set aside for Brian's debt. He thinks over it for a while, but seeing no other options, he gives in and agrees with himself. Sure, he could ask Brock or the other crew members for help, but he can't bring himself to do it, feeling some sort of greed or guilt or _something_ bubble in his stomach at the thought of asking for their help. He knows he may regret it later, but that's just something to deal with when he comes to it.

 

As for Brian's money, however, he has a few plans already. With Sark and Lui's help, he's positive they can get together the remaining money before October 1st, it'll just take a bit of work (obviously). He's totally got this under lockdown. What could go wrong?

 

He grabs his headphones and shoves the cord into his phone, turning on loud music to fill his ears. Quietly (or at least he thinks so), he moves to the kitchen, grabbing one of the beers from the fridge and pulling the cap off. For the next hour or two, he just has time with himself until his eyelids are too heavy for him, forcing him to bury himself in his own blankets and quickly fall asleep.

 

\- --- - ---- - -----

 

“What do you mean he wouldn't take a cut?” Evan asks Sark, taking the small backpack from the older's hand. Sark shrugs a bit, leaning on the glass gun cases.

 

“Lui said you guys need all this more,” Sark says. “Insisted on that when he dropped off the cash yesterday.”

 

“Oh,” Evan replies, slowly putting the bag of cash onto his shoulders. “I guess..”

 

“And about Vinewood Hills,” The shopkeeper drums lightly on the glass. “Everything's been paid for, so you're for sure good to go. Place is great.”

 

“Nice,” Evan smiles, catching the keys Sark tosses him and shoving them in his pocket.

 

“You guys were awesome with Fleeca,” Scott smiles to him. “Keep that shit up, and you may actually be able to hit up Pacific Standard Bank one day.”

 

Evan chuckles a bit, turning and heading for the front doors. “Maybe one day. I don't think we're near ready enough yet.”

 

“Patience, kiddo,” Sark says with an obvious grin. Evan waves at him a bit, pushing through the doors once he hears the locks clicking open. He smiles wide when he sees Marcel standing outside his Patriot, giving him a small wave. Brock waves his hand out the window of the back seat, making Evan laugh a bit.

 

“Okay, where the hell are you making me take us?” Marcel asks as the two climb in the car. Tyler hums in agreement, Craig scooting himself into the middle so Evan can sit in one of the backseats. Evan pulls out his GPS on his phone and hands it to Tyler in the front seat.

 

“Just go there, you're gonna love it.”

 

“Why are we going all the way up Vinewood Hills?” Tyler asks, holding the phone where Marcel can see it as he drives.

 

“Just go, jeez. It's a fucking surprise. Stop trying to ruin everything,” Evan smiles a bit, snickering at the mix of horror and confusion on Craig's face.

 

“You're straight up gonna stab us, aren't you?” The Brit asks. The five laugh a bit together.

 

Once they reach the huge house, Marcel parks on the curb, no one moving to get out until Evan does himself. He waits until everyone's gotten out of the car, giving them a chance to admire the huge building. He smiles wide, gesturing to the house. “Welcome home.”

 

“Home??” Marcel asks, staring up at it.

 

“Wait, you _bought_ this place??” Craig asks, eyes glued to the sold sign on the curb. Evan only smiles, pulling keys from his pocket and jingling them loudly. The four stare at him in disbelief for a moment.

 

“Why are we still outside, then??” Wildcat asks, snatching the keys from Evan and heading for the door. Evan giggles a bit, watching as Craig and Marcel follow them. Brock taps on his shoulder.

 

“How much did this cost?” The older asks quietly. Evan bites his lip and hesitates, Brock giving him a stern look.

 

“Okay, fine, I had to take from Terroriser's money,” Evan says quietly, Brock's jaw dropping. “W-Well it wasn't that much! We can get it back!”

 

“How much?” Brock asks, squinting when Evan doesn't answer. “Evan.”

 

“Only like... Thirty thousand.” Brock facepalms, groaning quietly. “Look, we'll get it back, okay? This just... takes priority.”

 

“No,” Brock huffs. “ _You_ not getting put on a fucking psycho Kingpin's hit list for not paying him is the priority, Evan. Why didn't you just ask for help paying? We're all supposed to be pitching in any-”

 

“Guys!” Tyler pokes his head out the front door, both Evan and Brock turning their attention to him. “Why aren't you in here, this place is fucking awesome! Get in here!”

 

“You heard him,” Evan tells Brock, getting a glare from the other.

 

 

\- --- - ---- - -----

 

 

Evan understands completely why the place is 700 thousand.

 

When entering the front door, he's met with a small hallway, a door to the right leading to a very small office space, a large mirror opposite of the door. At the end of the hallway is the large living room area, complete with a fireplace and a wall basically made of glass to overlook the pool and city (Plus large blinds, which Evan's grateful for.) There's about three steps that leads down to a furnished dining room, large kitchen right next to it in which Marcel and Craig are spazzing about the large fridge, large oven, and abundant cabinet space. There's a room just next to the living room which turns out to be a small bedroom, with a window angled just right to see into Vinewood Hills. Just below the stairs is a bathroom, large glass shower stall and whatnot.

 

Upstairs is Evan's favorite. To the left of the top of the stairs is the Master Bedroom; huge window taking up a majority of one wall to overlook the pool and city, a walk-in closet almost the size of a bathroom, and a huge painting of clouds scattered across a full moon. Just ahead of the stairs is a large bathroom, connecting the Master Bedroom with the next largest bedroom, which also has its own smaller closet and less awesome window. The rightmost door of the stairs leads to a small bedroom, looking a bit shabby in comparison to the other two on the second floor.

 

After their little tour, the five meet in the dining room. Tyler sits in a chair and is immediately sat on by Craig, Marcel casually joining the fun and sitting the best he can on Craig's lap (Much to Tyler's distaste.) Brock rolls his eyes at the Trio, giving a small thank you when Evan pulls a chair out for him to sit at.

 

“Okay, so obviously, we gotta decide who lives where,” Evan starts off. “Tyler and Craig are obviously going together, so we gotta figure out Me, Marc and Moo-Moo.”

 

“Are you two just gonna butt buddy again?” Marcel says, balancing himself when Tyler shifts underneath the two. “Because I'm totally okay with having my own room.”

 

“Yeah,” Evan and Brock say in unison.

 

“Marcel will get the baby room upstairs, then,” Brock smiles. Marcel squints at the other.

 

“You bitch,” he whispers, getting a laugh from the four.

 

“Wait,” Tyler says from beneath Craig and Marcel. “How do we decide which couple gets which room?”

 

“Not a couple,” Evan rolls his eyes.

 

“First one to the Master Bedroom gets it,” Brock quickly says, everyone looking to him in confusion. Brock pushes on Evan's shoulder a bit. “First one there, go!”

 

“Oh!” Evan yelps, quickly rushing towards the stairs. Tyler and Craig begin scrambling to try and get up, but Marcel doesn't budge, a loud, very fake yawn coming from his mouth.

 

“Man I'm tired,” He taunts.

 

“Marcel you fat fuck get the hell up I need to RACE!” Tyler yells, trying to push Marcel off without completely dissing Craig as well. Marcel only leans back on the two, resting all his weight on them.

 

Evan laughs from the top of the stairs, stepping into the large bedroom. He can hear the arguing happening downstairs.

 

“You fucking sabotaged us!!” Tyler yells. “Not fair!!”

 

“Totally fair!” Evan hollers from the bedroom.

 

“Be nice to the Birthday man!” Tyler yells back.

 

“You aren't special until tomorrow, fuck off!” Marcel says loud enough for Evan to hear. Evan walks to the top of the stairs to see an almost upset Brock, lifting his head when Evan comes into view.

 

“What's wrong, Brock?” Evan asks him quietly.

 

“My leg,” Brock shrugs. “It's gonna take a bit for me to get used to stairs.”

 

Evan steps down the stairs, resisting a frown at the painful pang in his chest. Brock just watches him, blinking a few times when Evan offers him his arm. “Come on, you wanna see the room, right?”

 

“You can't be my human walker forever, Evan,” Brock huffs, taking a hold of Evan's arm and using him as support, not once touching the railing on the wall. Evan only shrugs, slowly leading the older up the stairs.

 

“Maybe I like it,” Evan deadpans, smiling when he sees Brock roll his eyes out of his peripherals.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh yeah so next chapter is tyler's birthday because as far as i know its september 14th (im not 100% sure if its right though because Ali was the one who just spammed me with birthdays so if im wrong with birthdays its her fault) (fuck u ali) (also sorry if youre just reading this and your name happens to be ali i swear im only being mean to my ali) (other alis are coolio)
> 
> see you soon :D


	23. Grow up, Tyler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I CAN TOTALLY EXPLAIN WHY THIS IS LATE
> 
> i really hate this chapter. like. i think its so poorly done and generally just a meh chapter, and anything i tried to do to fix it made it worse. since i hated it, i tried to write the NEXT chapter as well, just so i could post it along with this one (on the same update) to try and make up for the gross chapter, but then i got HARDCORE writers block and kinda fucked up, so instead of making everyone wait for me to get my shit together, i thought id just throw this chapter at you guys with extreeeeeme hesitation. 
> 
> this chapter is literally just gay. so much gay. like. all the gay. silentcalibre. vanoo. minicat. just everything. its also a filler. it's also set the day after last chapter.
> 
> i swear next chapter will hopefully be so much better 3 you wont miss anything if you skip it and just wait until next chapter.
> 
> ill see you in the end note, and as always, i hope ye enjoy :3

“Craig and Anthony are lucky,” Lui says with a huff, slowly lowering the mattress onto the bed frame with Evan's help. Evan sighs as he stands up straight, twisting quickly to pop his back.

 

“Why do you say that?” He asks, watching Lui roll his shoulders.

 

“They don't have to help our sorry asses move all this shit,” Lui sighs, following Evan out of the Master bedroom.

 

Craig and Anthony _did_ get lucky, having to work today getting the two out of helping move everything. Tyler isn't happy, especially with Craig teasing him about not only working, but about Tyler having to work on moving what little they all own from the Penthouse to the new house on his birthday. Thankfully, he's sucked it up, only because of Evan's promise to have a small party for him tonight.

 

“Ay!” Droid hollers from just outside the front door. “Lui, take this TV.”

 

“Why can't you?” Lui asks, walking down the stairs and toward the front door.

 

“Because I'm not supposed to be lifting really heavy things, babe, you know that,” Arlan crosses his arms. Lui nods, slipping past Arlan through the door. Evan waves at the other when he's downstairs.

 

“Have you seen Brock?” Evan asks him.

 

“I think he's on the deck,” Droid says. “Is he okay? He seems a little off.”

 

Evan raises an eyebrow, slowly shaking his head. “I haven't noticed. I'll talk to him.”

 

Evan moves through the living room to the large sliding doors, peering outside to see Brock sitting next to the pool, looking up at the sky. He steps outside, cautiously walking to the older. “Brock?”

 

Brock turns to look at him, giving him a big smile. “Hi,” He says, patting the ground next to him. Evan takes a seat where he pats. “Is everything done?”

 

“Mostly,” Evan says. “We're gonna need to get Marcel a bed, and probably one for Mini and Tyler. Marcel first, though. The gay kids have an air mattress. Also general TVs and shit like that.”

 

“Isn't Tyler bi?” Brock scrunches his nose a bit, Evan only shrugging in response. “Marcel can have my bed, I'll crash on the couch until we get another one.”

 

“Why the couch?” Evan asks, almost offended that Brock would just give up his bed. “I have room in mine, you know.”

 

The words just slip out of Evan's mouth, and it isn't until the sentence has already left his lips that he realizes how many ways what he's said can be taken. His cheeks heat up a bit when he sees Brock look at him out of the corner of his eye.

 

“I just mean, like... If you want to, you can crash in mine, it's whatever,” Evan mumbles, choosing not to look at the other. He knows how visible his blush is, and it doesn't help that Brock won't stop looking at him. There's a bit of silence before Brock answers him.

 

"You're okay with me stealing part of your bed for a while?” He asks. Evan nods a tiny bit, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Evan replies. “It's always nice.” He bites his tongue, trying to stop himself from sounding any more flirtatious on accident. Brock smiles a little, nodding without a word. Evan looks at the clouds, trying to think of something to say. “Are you feeling okay?”

 

“Why?” Brock asks. Evan shrugs a bit again.

 

“Droid says you've been off, just thought I'd check up on you.”

 

“I guess,” Brock sighs with a shrug of his shoulders. “Just been bummed about having to get used to being slower than I used to be, I guess.”

 

Evan gulps a bit, eyes moving to look at the scar on Brock's thigh, just barely visible beneath his shorts. He still feels awful, blaming himself for the wound in the first place. Brock hates hearing him say that.

 

“You'll be better soon,” Evan tries to cheer the older up, getting a small chuckle in response. The two stay silent, staring out past the pool and to the City, Evan not even saying anything when Brock gently leans himself over onto the owl, pressing their shoulders together (And Evan would be lying if he says he didn't lean into the touch, as well.)

 

 

\- --- - ---- - -----

 

The house is full. Everyone-- and that means _everyone,_ has shown up for Tyler's little birthday get together tonight. Of course, the crew is there, but so is Sark, Chilled, Lui and Arlan, all nine people taking place on the Deck.

 

Craig and Chilled made a few stops on the way home, picking up various snacks that Tyler wanted, and alcohol that everyone pitched in to get. Tyler wasn't even awake when Craig and Chilled showed up, having crashed on the couch after moving things around. Now that he's awake, though, he's pumped.

 

The pool and Deck look awesome as the Sun sets, giving everyone a scenic view of the City and all its lights. Evan loves it, sitting against the wall of the house to get a perfect view of everyone and everything. Brock is next to him, of course, and Chilled has taken his place laying across both of their laps. Sark, Tyler, Craig, and Lui are splashing around in the pool together, acting like absolute children (ESPECIALLY the squeaker.) Droid isn't allowed to swim yet, so he sits at the edge, legs dipped in the water, Lui swimming up to him every now and then to sneak a small kiss when he thinks no one is looking.

 

“You'd think Sark would be over here with us,” Chilled huffs, watching everyone play around. “But noooo, he loves everyone else more.”

 

“Someone's jealous, huh?” Brock smirks, Evan snickering when Chilled just pouts.

 

“Listen, I like friendship, okay?”

 

“MARCEEEEEEL,” Craig suddenly squeals, the three lifting their heads towards the pool. Tyler's got a hold of Craig, dunking him in the water every time Craig sucks in a deep breath. “MARCEL WHERE ARE YOU HELP!” The lad yelps when he has a chance.

 

Sark moves to the edge of the pool with Droid, the two just watching. Marcel never shows up, and Tyler stops dunking the Lad. “Where's Marcel?” Tyler asks.

 

“HEIST GEAR DOUBLES AS SWIM GEAR,” Marcel suddenly yells, running out from the sliding door in nothing but his bright shorts, making a huge cannon ball into the pool. The splash is huge, even reaching the three by the house. Evan whines a bit, groaning when Chilled quickly pushes himself off the two.

 

“You got water in my beer,” Sark whines, grabbing one of the bottles near Droid and swishing the liquid inside a bit. “You bitch....”

 

Marcel pops his head out of the water, smug grin on his face.

 

Evan's loving this. He's completely forgotten about everything the crew has done, everything they've-- everything _he's_ gotten them into. Not once tonight has he thought about Brian or Adam. Hell, Delirious hasn't even come to his mind, either. He really needed this, and so did everyone else. Craig hasn't been this laid back since Vangelico, something that Evan thinks _everyone_ is a bit grateful for. It's also the first time he's seen Lui and Droid act as an actual couple, so he's taking it as a good sign.

 

“I'll get more, jeez,” Chilled huffs as he stands, taking himself into the kitchen. Evan closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall, listening to the sounds of everyone splashing and laughing. There's a small weight on his shoulder, and he cracks an eye open to see Brock leaning against him, head on his shoulder. Evan just smiles a bit, closing his eyes again, some sort of flutter tickling his stomach.

 

Once the Sun has completely set, everyone makes their way inside, Evan, Brock, Chilled and Droid staying in the living room while everyone else goes to dry themselves off. They scatter themselves around the large living room, focusing up on the large TV and video games. Lui, Marcel, Droid, Tyler, and Craig have squished up on the couch, Craig ending up sitting mostly on Tyler's lap, and Droid on Lui's. Sark and Chilled stole a couple of the dining room chairs to sit in, and Evan and Brock are, of course, on the floor in front of the couch, sitting shoulder to shoulder.

 

With the Alcohol in their systems (and maybe even a bit of THC), they all suck at any of the games they play together. They either don't try to finish the level, or they get too distracted trying to fuck each other over that they die before anything gets done. It's fun, though. Any of the curses and yells that they scream at each other are always taken as jokes, all of the punches and slaps they give each other nowhere near hard enough to hurt. Evan feels like he's gone back in time, back to before they started breaking the law, when they were just highschoolers trying to have fun instead of worry about grades. It's like the gang is all together again, with the addition of a few. And for a few hours, Evan is genuinely happy again.

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

Evan doesn't remember when he fell asleep, but here he is, groaning quietly at the shaking of his shoulder. He slowly opens his eyes and peeks around, head spinning, obviously still _very_ intoxicated. Someone mumbles above him, and he lifts his head to see Brock's tired eyes.

 

“Evan, I wanna go to bed...” Brock mumbles, tugging on Evan's arm. Evan sits up on the floor, looking around again. Sark snores lightly behind him, and he turns to see him and Chilled huddled together on the couch.

 

“What the heck...” Evan mumbles in confusion, still too tired and drunk to really register where everyone is. Brock shrugs a bit, standing up. Evan huffs and stands with him, letting Brock tangle their fingers together as the older heads to the stairs. Evan supports Brock as they head up, snickering a bit when he glances through Marcel's open door to see Marcel squished between Lui and Droid, all three seemingly asleep.

 

The clock next to his bed says 3:25 am, Evan groaning sleepily when he sees it. He and Brock flop onto the bed together, Brock smiling a bit at the owl. Evan smiles a little at him, but when Brock turns his back to him, he frowns a bit. The owl drapes an arm over Brock's stomach with hesitation, but Brock doesn't turn him away. Instead, the older takes a light hold of Evan's hand, tangling their fingers together once more and tugging Evan a bit closer.

 

Evan doesn't know why he's holding onto Brock, but in his intoxicated state, he couldn't care less. The fact that Brock is holding his hand closer makes Evan's stomach flutter again, Craig's words echoing through his head once more.

 

_He likes you._

 

Evan bites his tongue a bit, nuzzling his face into the back of Brock's neck. Evan isn't oblivious to Brock's feelings, he just doesn't want to believe the feelings are real. Though, the more he and Brock joke together, the more they give each other those casual shoulder bumps and pats on the back, the more Evan has to hold back just straight up asking Brock to date him.

 

But by this point, Evan doesn't think there would be a problem with just letting himself go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully the vanoo makes up for the shitty chapter
> 
> next chapter (spoiler) will have jealous delirious finally. also more vanoo. 
> 
> this fic is out of control


	24. Strike One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops i am also not very fond of this chapter either but here you go
> 
> sorry for the weird posting schedule, i've been quite busy the past week or so, so i havent had a lot of time to work and post these chapters, but hopefully that will be fixed fairly soon. I've also accidentally began brainstorming a new story that will DEFINITELY be a lot shorter than this one, so i've been jumping between drafts and just generally not being organized (the new story isn't in the BBS fandom though, it's achievement hunter. whoops.) (but it's also a GTA setting so it's fine)
> 
> this chapter has a lot of weird feels, lots of jealousy going on, and some really surprising vanoo moments :OO nothing to really warn about i believe...............
> 
> i'll see you in the end notes, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

Evan regrets taking the money from Brian's debt.

 

Since Tyler's birthday, Evan's busted his ass trying to gather the money back. With Sark getting no job calls, the crew has had to improvise, taking part in a lot of their own repo jobs and store robberies. The pay sucks, especially with them still needing to have money to live off of, and they're getting almost no where with meeting their goal.

 

Evan's definitely been hard on himself after realizing his mistake, taking on a lot of work by himself. It's run him ragged. He's lacking sleep and general nourishment, often having to force himself to stop what he's doing and shove a bit of food down his throat before his stomach kills him with all its growling. Brock's taken notice, getting in small arguments with the other during the night while he attempts to convince Evan to take some breaks. Their most recent argument resulted in Evan sleeping on the couch, just because he was so upset with himself that he didn't even want to see Brock's face on the pillow next to him.

 

“ _I can't just take a break and expect everything to fix itself!” Evan quietly yelled to Brock._

 

“ _That's true, nothing is going to fix itself. But Evan, you're fucking yourself over,” Brock told him, his arms crossed tight across his chest._

 

“ _You don't understand,” Evan spat. “You don't get how important it is to keep this motherfucker happy.”_

 

“ _I understand it, but I also understand that taking care of yourself should be a priority. You want to fuck yourself over and make yourself sick? Fine. You obviously know best. You're the leader, after all. But when you can't plan a job properly because you're so sleep deprived, or when you can't shoot a gun because the recoil is too much for your weak ass body to counter, I can't promise you that I won't tell you 'I told you so.'”_

 

After that, Brock was just gone, and in all honesty, Evan cried. He cried because he knew Brock was right. Not only that, he cried because he was terrified. He's terrified for the crew, because he knows Terroriser isn't going to take missing payment lightly.

 

When October 1st rolls around, they're still short by almost 10,000. He _knows_ Terroriser is going to punish him somehow, but in what way, he can't determine. When Evan wakes up on the couch October 1 st, he takes in a huge breath, knowing the possibility of another beating from the Kingpin. He doesn't want to even look at his phone.

 

“Evan?” Brock's voice comes from the hallway, and Evan turns a bit, waving a little at the other. Brock doesn't say anything, looking Evan over.

 

“Why didn't you come sleep?” Brock asks quietly. Evan only shrugs a bit, scooting over on the couch for Brock to sit next to him. Brock sits, tapping his fingers on his legs lightly. “Let me come with you today.”

 

“You aren't coming, ever.”

 

“Just because you got beat up the first time doesn't mean I can never go again,” Brock frowns.

 

“That's not the point,” Evan sighs. “I know how freaked out you got... When you had to see all of that shit.. I'm pretty sure today is gonna be the same... You aren't coming.”

 

Brock opens his mouth, but slowly shuts it. Evan leans over and lays his head on Brock's shoulder, smiling when Brock nuzzles his nose into Evan's hair.

 

“I could just wait outside..” Brock mumbles into his hair, trying hard to convince Evan to bring him. Evan doesn't reply and just closes his eyes, not wanting to argue with Brock over this. Brock doesn't say anything else, and instead just sits with Evan for a while, letting the owl stay pressed against him.

 

Evan glances at the time on the TV, his stomach flipping when it reads half to 1. He knows Brian will text him soon, and he _really_ isn't looking forward to it.

 

“You hungry?” Brock asks.

 

“I guess so,” Evan grumbles, slowly sitting up straight.

 

“Well,” Brock shifts a bit. “We've got cereal... and probably some frozen stuff.”

 

Evan groans and turns his nose up at the suggestions. The thought of eating anything right now is making him want to vomit, he's so anxious. His mood gets worse when Brock's shoulders slump a bit, obviously upset at Evan's reaction. Evan looks at him, taking in Brock's worried frown.

 

“Sorry,” Evan mumble a bit. “I just want to get the meeting done with.”

 

“I know,” Brock replies, leaning back on the couch a bit.

 

Evan's phone chimes from the coffee table and he jumps a bit, his shoulders tensing up, but he doesn't make any moves to grab it. Brock leans over and grabs the phone, frowning even more when he reads the text. Evan gulps, slowly standing from his spot, but Brock grabs his hand.

 

“I'm coming,” he says. Evan just shrugs a bit, pulling the older onto his feet.

 

“I guess you're waiting outside, then.”

 

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

 

The long drive to Sandy Shores was almost painful for Evan. No radio, no talking between him and Brock. The only thing that really happens between the two is Evan grabbing onto Brock's hand lightly every few minutes, letting go when he needs to turn or use a blinker. Once the bar comes into view, he shrinks back into his seat a bit, driving a bit slower than he was before just to stall for time.

 

Adam nor Gassy are outside the doors this time, giving Evan a small sense of uneasiness (not small.) Evan hesitates before getting out of the car, Brock following him. Evan gives him a confused look.

 

“I need to hear if anything happens,” Brock shrugs, slowly limping to Evan's side. Evan puts the small backpack on his shoulder, turning his back to the bar to face Brock. Brock knows something bad may happen, it's obvious. He's just trying to play it off, and Evan appreciates him trying to make the situation seem better than it is.

 

Evan doesn't make any moves to the bar, and Brock says nothing, just looking Evan over. His eyes move towards the bar and he tenses up, Evan raising an eyebrow at the older. He goes to turn, but Brock just puts a hand on his cheek lightly, making Evan keep eye contact.

 

“I'll see you when you get back, okay?” He mumbles, eyes darting between Evan and the bar. The owl nods slowly, completely confused by Brock's actions. When the other lets him turn around, he begins to piece together Brock's weird mood.

 

Delirious is standing there, hockey mask attached to his belt, face covered in the hideous white and red clown paint. He's staring right past Evan and to Brock, only looking to Evan when he's a few feet from the other. He doesn't even bother patting Evan down, just grabbing onto Evan's elbow and tugging him inside.

 

There's no one else there besides Delirious and Evan, making Evan _extremely_ uncomfortable. Delirious obviously doesn't mind, walking to one of the tables and leaning on it, arms crossed tight across his chest.

 

“He's busy at the second, he'll be with you in a moment,” Jonathan tells him, not looking at the owl. Evan doesn't respond. “...You could do so much better.”

 

“Excuse me?” Evan asks.

 

“Brock. Really?” Delirious squints at him. “Your standards went down hill super fuckin' fast.”

 

Evan just stares at the other, completely dumbfounded by his words. Jonathan is definitely the jealous type, Evan learned _all_ about that in their year of dating, and the fact that Delirious is under the impression that the birds are dating makes his stomach very upset. The air in the bar has completely shifted, Evan going from scared to extremely horrified. Delirious just stares Evan down, the owl feeling like the walls of the bar are closing in quickly. It takes a few moments for Evan to finally open his mouth.

 

“We aren't dating,” Evan squeaks out, clearing his dry throat.

 

“Bullshit,” He shakes his head, looking behind Evan.

 

There's a hand slapped onto Evan's shoulder and he jumps, whipping his head around to see Brian's smiling face, staring down at him.

 

“Good to see you,” The blond says, looking between the two. He frowns when he sees Delirious just standing there. “Why haven't you started counting?”

 

Delirious walks over and holds his hand out, Evan hesitantly handing the backpack over. Evan rubs his arm anxiously, Terroriser staring him down.

 

“Something wrong, Evan?”

 

Evan doesn't look up, forcing his voice from his mouth. “It's short,” he mumbles.

 

“Excuse me?” Terroriser tilts his head.

 

“It's not all there,” He says, a bit louder this time. Brian squints a bit, turning his head to Delirious to watch him count. There's complete silence, Brian staying close to the owl.

 

Once Jonathan is finished counting, he shakes his head, looking over his shoulder to Terroriser. “He's right,” the clown says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

 

Terroriser turns towards Evan again, hands in his own coat pockets, just looking down at him. Evan's eyes are glued to Terroriser's pockets, trying to stop himself from taking a few steps back out of fear. There's a few moments of complete silence, a grin slowly stretching the blond's lips.

 

“You're not as good as everyone says you are,” Terroriser taunts. “I thought this would be easy for you. Do you really think this is acceptable, Evan?”

 

“Don't talk down to me like you're any better,” Evan growls defensively, punching himself in his mind for talking back.

 

“I'm much better!” Brian raises his voice a bit, Evan taking a small step back. “Look at you, you're fucking terrified, and I haven't done anything yet! You claim that your crew runs the streets, and you can't even get 100k to me each month!”

 

“I never claimed anything!” Evan yelps, glaring up at the Kingpin. Terroriser just smiles, taking a few steps to the owl every time Evan steps back. Evan's heart is racing now, expecting brass knuckles to his face any second. His eyes dart to Delirious, observing how the clown is almost glaring at the back of Terroriser's head, hands balled into tight fists.

 

“150 thousand,” Brian mumbles quietly down to the owl. “That's your pay for next month. It's in your best interest to not disappoint me again, Evan. I'd hate to see something bad happen. Jonathan..”

 

Brian gestures Delirious to Evan, Evan sucking in a small breath when he notices the metal wrapped around Terroriser's knuckles.

 

Jonathan walks Evan out of the bar again, a hand wrapped around his arm. Evan doesn't pull away until he sees Brock, turning a bit and glaring up at Jonathan. The clown's eyes are, once again, glaring at Brock.

 

“You need to back off,” Evan mumbles to the clown quietly, getting a glare in response. “You're acting like a fucking child, and I'm still very serious about killing you if you get between the crew.”

 

“Try me,” Delirious spits, smirking slowly when Evan doesn't move. Evan almost lifts his arms to push Delirious away, but the voice behind him grabs his attention.

 

“Evan,” Brock says. “Time to go.”

 

Evan takes a step away from Delirious, gulping anxiously because Delirious' eyes never move from Evan, the smirk never leaving his lips. Jonathan watches the two the entire time they climb into the car, going as far as to wave a bit as they pull off. Evan keeps a tight grip on the steering wheel, staying silent as he watches the road.

 

Brock waits until they're a bit away from the bar before asking, “You okay?”

 

“I just want to go home,” Evan mumbles a bit, leaning forward and folding his arms on the top of the steering wheel, nuzzling his lips and nose into his arms. Brock nods a little, leaning back, reaching over to give Evan a light pat on the back. “We owe 150.”

 

“Seriously?” Brock huffs. Evan nods a little. “Fun.”

 

Brock keeps turning his head to look at Evan every few moments, but doesn't say anything. At a stop light, Evan turns his head a little, looking at the older. Brock's eyes are filled with concern, but he doesn't say anything. “What?” Evan asks quietly.

 

“What's wrong?” Brock replies. Evan turns his face back to the road, still leaning on the steering wheel.

 

“He's jealous.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Delirious,” Evan sighs.

 

“Why is he jealous?”

 

Evan bites his lip nervously, not really wanting to bring any attention to the already awkward feelings between the two crew members. Brock doesn't push, he only sits silently, waiting for an answer.

 

“You and I,” Evan mumbles into his arms. “He thinks we're dating, and he's... Being Delirious, I suppose.”

 

Brock nods a bit. There's another pause.

 

“ _Are_ we dating?” Brock asks, the question almost making Evan jump. That's the last question Evan would've ever expected to come from Brock, and it rings in his ears, making his stomach flip over and over.

 

He pulls to the next red light, turning his head a bit to look at the older. Brock isn't looking at him, instead staring out the window, fingers lightly tapping against his leg. Evan can't think of anything else to say, so he just hums a bit in confusion.

 

“Well..” Brock says quietly. “I think... Maybe.. Our feelings are a bit obvious.. So I'm just asking, what do you wanna do about it?”

 

Evan opens his mouth, the only sound happening is the loud ringing of his phone. He groans and grabs it, answering it and putting it on speaker, dropping the phone into his lap.

 

“Hi,” Evan says.

 

“You're alive,” Craig says on the other line. “Nice. Is Brock with you?”

 

“Hi,” Brock huffs.

 

“Nice, just checking. Where are you?”

 

“Like, three blocks away. We'll see you guys soon,” Evan replies.

 

“Cool.”

 

Craig hangs up, and the car is silent, the previous conversation between the two not coming back up. That isn't to say that Evan stops thinking about it. In fact,it's pretty much the only thing he finds himself thinking about. He tries to distract himself with the company of the other roommates or video games, but after everyone has head to bed, he finds it harder and harder to distract himself.

 

Brock pretty much just _asked him out_. And it's like he just.... forgot he did. He completely dropped the subject after Craig's phone call, and never picked it back up. Even when he and Evan were one on one. Evan was tempted a few times to bring it up, but he never did. If Brock forgot about it, so should he.

 

And so he did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im suffering from my own vanoo writing help me 
> 
> i plan on making delirious be a right prick, btw, hope you guys are prepared.
> 
> next chapter is literally just going to be crazy and fucking insane and probably the deadliest chapter for the entire city of los santos so that's a heads up (you may think im joking but honestly their next job is 100% explosions and action and even some INTENSE BROMANCE) (i apologize in advance to the buildings harmed in the making of the next two chapters. you were good, structurally sound buildings and we all applaud you for your services. but you gotta go. i have two lost souls to reunite and then rip apart and you just happen to be needed for the task.)(SPOILERS intense bromance is gonna happen you'll find out exactly who in the next chapter)
> 
> see you guys there <3


	25. Slow Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god im not fond of this chapter
> 
> im not fond of any of the chapters recently apparently i hope that doesnt effect the experience for you guys
> 
> THE BUILDINGS. OH MAN, I'M SO SORRY. LOVE YA BUILDINGS. (nothing even happens to them yet)
> 
> heres nothing to warn of other than chilled being protective. other than that, ill see you in the end notes, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

Evan's never prayed, but he's been thinking it's time to start.

 

October has been horrible for their business. The calls Sark gets for Banana Bus (if any) are cheap, barely helping the crew towards their goal. Sark promises he's trying, and everyone believes him, but it seems like the shopkeeper doesn't trust them.

 

The crew has been working their asses off, as well. Even Craig. He's mostly been helping with repo work with Tyler and Marcel, bringing in a few thousand a week. The small amount that they bring in doesn't help too much, but it's always the thought that counts.

 

Even Lui and Droid attempt to help, giving Evan or Marcel a call any time they need an extra or two for a shoot up or something. Evan truly appreciates everyone's work, especially Lui and Droid. They've gone out of their way to help Banana Bus, knowing full and well that they could just leave the crew alone to fend for themselves. After all, they're different crews on different sides of the city. Usually that results in a lot of turf war and general gang violence, but Droid always tells Evan and Sark that he can't bring himself to allow violence between the groups.

 

With everyone being tired from working, there's been a lot of stress and agitation within the Vinewood house. Evan often finds himself most relaxed when he's isolated himself, closing himself into the heist room next to the living room or spending some time alone at the beach. It's the only time he can unwind, besides when he goes to work out. Even then, Marcel or Tyler will tag along, giving him some not-so-alone time. The only people he makes an effort to be around are Sark and Brock, but with them working as well, it isn't the easiest. It's times like these, Evan is thankful to share one bed with Brock.

 

Everything has been extremely quiet besides the days and nights that the crew do their work, and it isn't until the 30th that the loudest event begins, with a call from none other than Sark.

 

“Yeah?” Evan grumbles into his cellphone, sitting up slowly in his bed. He glances next to him and smiles a bit, seeing as how Brock had joined him for a nap.

 

“Get everyone down here,” The older replies, sounding as if he's shuffling through papers. “Like, right now. We have a big break but a small window, like... Tomorrow, small.”

 

“What? Okay... We'll all be there soon.”

 

Evan hangs up, rubbing his eyes with exhaustion. Brock stirs next to him, draping an arm over Evan's lap in his half asleep haze, getting a small smile from the owl. The younger taps lightly on Brock's cheek, using the annoying action to force Brock awake. He stirs a bit more before turning his head up to Evan, groaning a bit.

 

“Why?” Brock grumbles.

 

“Job call. We need to be there like, now, apparently.”

 

Brock huffs. “Alright.”

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

The five crew members flood out of the Patriot in the parking lot of the Ammunation, a majority of them offering small waves to Chilled, who's standing at the entrance of the shop. Chilled waves to them, gesturing everyone inside.

 

“What's happening?” Craig asks Anthony as he passes by the other on the way inside.

 

“Not too sure,” Anthony replies. “But Sark's in the back with Lui and Arlan, so I'm guessing it's really important.”

 

_Lui and Arlan? What the hell is going on?_ Evan can't help but ask himself.

 

The crew enter the back with Anthony, Evan raising his eyebrows at the sight of Scott sorting through a large amount of papers with Lui, Arlan standing off to the side with his arms crossed as he watches the two. Arlan turns to the crew and waves, tugging on Lui's sleeve to grab his attention. Scott and Lui turn to face them, Sark dropping the papers he's holding onto the table and stepping towards them.

 

“Alright, take a seat boys, we have some shit to discuss.” Sark huffs, watching as the crew take seats in various places around the room. Evan pulls a chair from a table for Brock, once again sitting on the table nearest to his chair. Tyler and Craig take place on the table with Evan, Marcel moving next to Lui and Arlan, and Anthony aimlessly wandering the room.

 

“Is something bad about to happen?” Brock asks.

 

“Depends on which point of view you're seeing from. From Los Santos' view, yes. From your view, probably not,” Sark shrugs. Everyone but the Vagos members raise their eyebrows.

 

“You're making no fucking sense,” Tyler speaks up.

 

“Then shut up and let me explain,” Scott smirks, adjusting his aviators on his nose. “You guys are about to bust a guy out of a federal prison. Or, I guess not. Just jail right now, but you're busting him out _before_ he gets to the big kid prison.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Evan asks. “You expect us to be able to do this?”

 

“Yep,” Sark smiles wide. “Don't worry, Lui and I have a plan all set and ready. We just need to fill you guys in and get you guys a good nights rest.”

 

Sark shuffles through the papers on the desk once again, holding up a large paper for the room to see. On it is a mugshot of a young looking guy; messy black curls all over his head, shortly trimmed facial hair, tired, grey eyes. Everyone looks the picture over a bit except for Chilled, who freezes in place once his eyes find the mugshot. Evan raises an eyebrow at the other but says nothing, studying the mugshot once more.

 

“This man goes by ZeRoyalViking, his personal name isn't important to you,” Sark says. “He's an FIB- Cross that. _Former_ FIB agent, as well as an extremely talented programmer and coder, hacker, yadda yadda yadda. Why is he in prison, you ask?”

 

“Yeh,” Tyler huffs under his breath, earning an elbow in the side from Craig.

 

“Little Ze here is a traitor, but a good one. Over the past few years, he's leaked _very_ incriminating information on how crooked and evil the FIB truly is, causing some intense legal actions to take place. He's a hero, really. But the FIB finally caught on, now we gotta help him out.”

 

“We better get paid big for this,” Marcel mumbles.

 

“You will.” Sark puts the mugshot down, gesturing for Lui to step forward. “So, we have a plan already, like we said.”

 

“Ze's gonna be held at the big LSPD offices downtown before he's transferred to Bolingbroke, then back to a huge bad prison in Canada in a few months,” Lui speaks up. “We got the rescue call today, and he's being taken to Boling fuckin' tomorrow night, so we gotta do this like. Immediately.”

 

“Our plan is.... A bit extreme,” Sark mumbles nervously. “Hence why tomorrow is gonna be a bad day for Los Santos.”

 

“Craig, are you gonna work?” Lui asks the Brit. Tyler shakes his head, and Mini slowly does the same, frowning a bit. “Too bad, you're working anyway.”

 

Tyler's jaw drops, and Craig smirks smugly.

 

“You're gonna be waiting with Sark at the meetup, because we might need some sort of... medicine man thing,” Lui kicks his feet. Mini nods a bit.

 

“Okay, there's gonna be three target buildings. First one is three blocks north, second is a block east, third is two blocks west. We're gonna load up the buildings with C4, like. All over the place,” Sark grabs a small map off the table behind him, passing it around the group. “Before showtime, we're gonna pull the fire alarms, just to get a lot of the people out of there so there's not too many casualties.”

 

“I'm gonna have a police helicopter waiting, and Evan, you're comin' with me,” Lui gestures to the owl. “You're gonna be retrieving our kiddo, because you're the fastest and most intimidating.”

 

“Cool,” Evan shrugs a bit, still not too sure of what he's doing.

 

“Okay, that's gonna be Team Pickup. Team Wapow will be Brock, Marcel, and Tyler. You three are gonna be split between the target buildings, set up on another building, or in one of your cases, a parking garage. We're gonna load you up with all the weapons and ammo you can carry, and you're going to just rain bullets all over any of the LSP that show up,” Sark informs.

 

“We're sending a few of our Vagos with each of you, as well,” Arlan adds. “Extra fire power.”

 

“After you guys blow the buildings and police show up, you're gonna just take them out. They'll be convinced of a terrorist attack, and just keep sending men,” Sark leans against the table, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Since the target buildings are so close to the LSPD building Ze is at, they'll send whatever able officers to the scenes, leaving just the jailors.”

 

“Evan, you're gonna go into the LSPD office and go downstairs, rip out our little objective. The locks on the cells ain't that hard, you'll be able to shoot through them easily,” Lui smiles. “Bring him to the Chopper, and we'll radio Team Wapow. Vagos will keep fire while you three use planted cars and get your asses to northern Del Perro Beach, and I'll fly over, pick you assholes up, and we're flyin' across the state to a little clearing at the base of Chilliad. We'll meetup with Sark and Craig there.”

 

“There's a problem,” Chilled suddenly speaks up. Everyone turns their heads toward Anthony, the other nibbling nervously on the edge of his thumb.

 

“What's up?” Sark asks, a small frown tugging his lips.

 

“Steven has Hemophilia. If he gets hurt in any way, all this is could be for nothing.”

 

Everyone just stares, faces mixed with confusion and general misunderstanding. Evan's completely confused. Steven? What's a Steven? What the fuck is Hemophilia?

 

“What are you talking about?” Lui speaks up.

 

“Steven. Has. Hemophilia. What part of that isn't understandable?” Anthony squints a bit, some weird, protective tone in his voice. Lui raises an eyebrow.

 

“Well, for starters, who is Steven?”

 

“Are you an idiot?” Chilled asks in an annoyed voice. He walks past Sark and to the table, picking up the Mugshot once more and holding it up for Lui to see.

 

“I'm so fucking confused, so shut the fuck up for a second,” Mini groans. “Anthony, how exactly do you know he's Steven?”

 

“I lived with him in Canada for fucking forever. Before I came here. He is- or at least was, my best friend.. When we did anything together, he was ZeRoyalViking, I was Chilled Chaos. This mugshot,” Chilled points to the paper. “This is Steven.”

 

“Okaaaaay,” Mini draws out. “Hemophilia?”

 

“His blood doesn't clot at all, really. Small cuts bleed stupid lots. If he gets shot or shanked or anything, he's in danger.”

 

“I'm still so fucking confused,” Evan sighs. “But... We need to listen to Chilled.”

 

“Are you serious?” Lui huffs.

 

“Yes, Lui. If this really is the Ze that Chilled knows, then we need to take the precautions that he's warning us about. We can't risk having him die.”

 

“This is ridiculous,” Marcel rubs his forehead. Evan sighs, shaking his head. Anthony glares between Lui and Marcel, tossing the mugshot back onto the table.

 

“Okay, okay,” Sark sighs in the silence. “Change of plans. Evan, I'm sending you with an extra set of body armor. Load Ze up when you get him, and keep him as close as possible.”

 

“I'm coming to the meetup,” Chilled adds, more to Sark than the rest of them. Sark just shrugs a bit, nodding afterwards.

 

“Once more, for the boys in the back... Target buildings are gonna blow, and Team Kapow will terrorize them with Vagos' help. Lui is gonna drop Evan, and he's gonna run in, grab Ze, suit him up, and radio Team Kapow before he gets in the Chopper with Ze. Team Kapow will rendezvous at the beach with Team Pickup, and all of you will come to Chilliad, and we'll go from there. Are we clear?” Sark crosses his arms.

 

Everyone nods in agreement, Evan still completely confused about the relationship between Chilled and Ze. He's never heard a thing about Chilled ever being in Canada, so the information shocks him. He trusts Chilled, though, so he's going to protect Ze even more than he was already planning to per his request.

 

Everyone's outside the shop besides Evan, Sark, Chilled, Lui and Arlan now, piling into the Patriot after the meeting. Sark is shoving papers into a folder, huffing tiredly as he does so.

 

“Chilled, you need to just stay here tomorrow,” Sark mumbles over his shoulder, Anthony's jaw dropping a bit.

 

“What the fuck? Absolutely not. I haven't seen Steven in fucking _years,_ I'm not passing up on this opportunity.”

 

“Okay, but I just really don't think it's a good--”

 

“Why are you trying to keep me from him?”

 

“You left him for a reason, didn't you?” Lui asks, Evan facepalming at the squeaker's poor choice of words. Chilled glares intensely at him.

 

“I left him because when I got into business, shit was getting bad, and Ze wasn't taking part in it. I left him because I was protecting him, because I wanted him to live forever,” Chilled replies. “I was helping him.”

 

“Looks like Ze got into some bad things anyway,” Sark says quietly, getting a shrug from Chilled. “Alright, fine. I'll see you tomorrow.”

 

Chilled leaves with that, leaving the four alone.

 

“So Sark,” Evan says after the door is closed. “Is destroying these buildings to get Ze out really necessary?”

 

“Kinda,” Sarks sighs. “The ruckus Team Kapow is gonna cause is our best bet for clearing that entire station out. And we need it clear so you can just rush through and make a quick pick up. Plus, they'll have no fucking clue that this is a break out, because like I said, they'll lean towards some sort of Terrorist attack. It's a good cover up, just... Extreme.”

 

“No shit,” Evan rubs the back of his head. “If you say so, I guess.”

 

Evan turns on heel with a shrug and heads towards the door, Sark's voice behind him once again stopping him.

 

“Evan, armor.”

 

Evan turns, putting his hands up just in time to catch the vest that's tossed to him. He nods in appreciation, turning and exiting the building.

 

This job is so fucked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. the background for chilled and ze may seem a bit strange and undetailed at this particular moment, but i mmmmmay fix that within the next few chapters, or just explain it in the end notes of a chapter.idek. we'll get there when we get there.
> 
> sorry about the late updates 3


	26. Ze Prizon Breek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no no no no no bad chapters bad chapter titles ugh this fanfiction is slowly slipping away from me and im trying to hard not to let it go i have sO MANY IDEAS
> 
> i like zeroyalviking. i like minicat. i like vanoo. i like. i. like. ,,,,,,,,,,
> 
> i also like horribly describes heist missions.
> 
> and explooooding buildings. and killing police apparently.
> 
> .......not gonna lie i hurt someone in this chapter im sorry i couldnt help it. i tried not to but the hurt was calling my name
> 
> Ze is a badass, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

Sark was serious about everyone getting a good night's sleep last night, calling Evan and bitching at him until he told everyone to hit the hay. The crew members were a bit annoyed with the nagging, but ultimately, Evan's glad they were all forced to go to bed at relatively the same time. It resulted in them all waking up at generally the same time the next morning, giving them a chance to eat breakfast together for the first time in a while.

 

Evan is the first awake, but Craig follows shortly after, using Evan's lap as a footrest as they lounge on the couch for a while. Marcel comes down soon afterwards, using both of them as some sort of weird bed to lazily try and cling onto sleep for a while longer. Evan definitely doesn't help, using his fingertips to drum on the center of Marcel's back lightly.

 

“I'm making breakfast,” Mini huffs, wiggling himself out from underneath Marcel and pushing himself off the couch.

 

“Want help?” Evan offers.

 

“Sure.”

 

Evan groans as he pushes Marcel to the other side of the couch, following Craig into the kitchen. The lad has started shifting through the cabinets, taking out pancake mix and various coffee things. Evan looks around, trying to figure out what exactly to do.

 

“Ev, get eggs and bacon. This is gonna be a cheesy breakfast.”

 

Evan leans into the fridge and pulls out the other ingredients, head shooting up when he hears slippers unevenly scraping against the floor towards the kitchen. Brock appears, waving sleepily at the two. Evan smiles a bit at him, putting the bacon and eggs on the counter.

 

“What are you two up to?” Brock asks, limping further into the kitchen to peak around.

 

“Gonna make breakfast,” Mini says, reading all the directions on the back of the pancake mix. Brock nods a bit, moving to stand near Evan.

 

“Need more help?”

 

“Sure,” Craig shrugs. “Big kitchen means more people can cook.”

 

“Nice,” Brock smiles.

 

Once the various smells begin to fill the house, Tyler drags himself out of bed, he and Marcel shuffling to the kitchen to see what's cooking. Tyler wanders straight to Craig, leaning down and pressing his forehead into the lad's shoulder blade. Marcel walks behind Tyler and does the exact same thing, earning an annoyed groan from Wildcat.

 

“I want food,” Marcel huffs, stealing a piece of cooked bacon. Mini swats at his hand, squinting playfully at the other.

 

Evan focuses on trying not to fill their eggs with eggshells, doing his best to ignore the dweebs beside him. Brock pokes his head over Evan's shoulder, pointing into the bowl filled with uncooked eggs. “There's an eggshell.”

 

Evan whines a bit, swishing the bowl around. “Why is this so difficult?”

 

“You don't have the softest hands, Evan,” Brock grins.

 

“Definitely not the first time Brock's said that about Vanoss' hands,” Wildcat snickers, getting laughs from Craig and Marcel, and embarrassed giggles from Evan and Brock.

 

“You're immature,” Evan says.

 

“Please try to tell me something we don't already fuckin' know,” Tyler rolls his eyes.

 

The breakfast is soon finished, everyone scattering themselves around the living room as they chow down and watch cartoons like the children they are. They could stay there all day, and really, that's exactly what Evan wants to do. But they have a _lot_ of work to do, and duty always calls. Except in Evan's case, it's Sark who always calls, right in the middle of their favorite Spongebob episode.

 

“Hmm?” Evan hums into the phone.

 

“Send me Team Kapow, we gotta get ready for showtime,” Sark says on the other line. “I'll call for you and Craig later.”

 

“They'll be there soon,” Evan replies, hanging up after a quick exchange of goodbyes. Craig nudges Evan, hinting at how Evan should relay the phone call. “Moo, Tyler and Marcel need to see Sark, set up for tonight.”

 

Tyler and Marcel groan a bit. Evan just rolls his eyes, watching as the two get off the couch and head upstairs to get ready. Craig follows them after a moment, leaving Brock and Evan alone.

 

“You cool?” Evan asks the other.

 

Brock nods, pushing himself off the couch and heading to the stairs. Evan follows him, offering Brock support as he heads to their room. Funny thing is, Brock has shown he's perfectly capable of climbing any staircase now, but it still feels almost necessary. Like a routine that they can't break.

 

Once the three are ready, they head out the door, Tyler and Craig sharing a small kiss before the departure. Evan, Marcel and Brock groan at the adorable sight, getting nothing but giggles from the couple.

 

Then, Craig and Evan are alone, trying to get a bit of the cleaning done while Tyler and Marcel aren't there to make the mess bigger. It's nice, being able to have actual one on one time with Craig. He's like a sibling or best friend; extremely annoying and a bit childish, but still tolerable and easy to talk to. Evan hates trying to remember what his social life was like before Craig came into circle, mostly because he just can't. Tyler constantly jokes about Craig and Evan being “long lost siblings separated at birth”, but for obvious reasons, everyone calls him an idiot.

 

But even with the constant companionship of Craig throughout the day, Evan's mind still tends to wander to the rest of the Crew, Brock more than the others. He wonders how they're doing with setting up, or if any of them have been caught or God knows what else. He's been tempted to text at least Brock, just to see what exactly they're up to, but the anxious portion of his mind always talks him down for being “too clingy” or “worrying too much”. After all, his text may distract Brock and get him caught or in some sort of other trouble. He can't risk that, now can he?

 

Craig, on the other hand, couldn't care less. His phone vibrates nearly every half hour with a text back from Tyler, the two acting as though they're not about to maybe fucking _die._ Even with being distracted by his own significant other, he still notices Evan's distant gazes and thoughtful expressions. He ignores it for a while, but eventually gives in and asks Evan what the hell is eating him.

 

“What do you mean?” Evan looks at the younger from his intense stare outside, turning the mug of coffee in his hands. Craig sits next to him on the couch, tucking his knees underneath him.

 

“You seem out of it,” The Brit shrugs. “I wanna know what's up.”

 

“I dunno,” Evan sighs. “Just thinking about things.”

 

“About Brock?”

 

“To say the least,” Evan groans, leaning back onto the couch. Craig just nods a bit, waiting for anything else.

 

“I didn't even say bye,” Evan says after a few moments of getting ready to practically pour his heart out to the lad beside him. “I'm not gonna see him before showtime... What if shit goes down and I just.. Don't see him again? This sucks, dude.”

 

“Everything will be fine,” Craig pats his back lightly. “Brock knows you mean well. I didn't really say bye to Tyler, either, but he knows I'll be thinking of him. He knows I'll be excited to say hi to him when he lands at Chilliad.”

 

“That's different,” Evan shakes his head.

 

“How so?” Craig leans over a bit.

 

Evan just shakes his head a bit, staring out past the balcony door again. With a deep breath, he swallows the lump in his throat.

 

“Tyler knows you love him.”

 

The gears turn in Craig's head after a few moments, and a childish grin spreads ear to ear on the lad.

 

“ _Evan loves Brock~”_ Craig sings as he pokes into the others' side, laughing at the blush that colors Evan's face.

 

“I'll kill you I swear to god, Mini.”

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

“You're under arrest, get in the Helicopter!”

 

Evan turns at the high pitched voice, giving Lui an extremely unamused look. “You're the last person I'd expect to be an LSPD officer.”

 

“Say what, kid?” Lui squeaks, pushing his shoulder playfully. Evan just laughs a bit and swats his hand away, adjusting his jacket on his shoulders.

 

Lui walks through the gravel of the construction sight, patting the windshield of the police helicopter as he makes his way to the pilot's side. Evan pulls himself into the back of the chopper, shoving one of the vests of body armor into one of the compartments behind the seats. Loud footsteps behind him draw his attention and he turns to see Sark approaching him, aviators on his nose and cigarette between his lips.

 

“You got one of them vests on, Ev?” The shopkeeper asks. Evan pats his chest, slowly shaking his head.

 

“Forgot.”

 

“Get it on, then.”

 

Evan shrugs out of his jacket, leaning into the front of the helicopter to grab a hold of his own vest. Sark helps adjust the snug vest around his chest, patting Evan's shoulder once he's ready. Evan nods to him, pulling his jacket over the vest.

 

“Hey!” Craig yelps from behind Sark, drawing the pair's attention. The lad walks over to Evan, holding his arms out to the older. “See you soon, alright?”

 

“Soon,” Evan replies, giving the lad a light hug as the helicopter behind them begins to whirl it's blades. Craig takes a step back as Sark steps forward, leaning in to be heard over the helicopter.

 

“Lui will call the shots, just be sure you can get that kid from the station to the chopper with minimal problems. You have a shotgun, use it if necessary. And remember to vest that kid!”

 

“I got it!” Evan hollers over the noise, giving the two a fist bump as he climbs into the aircraft. There's his owl mask and gun in the floorboard, which he shuffles around with his feet as he sits. Lui hands him a headset and he adjusts it on his head, sitting back a bit.

 

“We're gonna have it blow before we get there,” Lui says into the headset. “Then we'll linger a bit in the air before I take you down.”

 

“Good for me,” Evan replies, watching the ground get further away.

 

The other three voices come through the headphones every once in a while, just checking up with each other and asking questions. While they fly to the LSPD office, Evan nervously taps his fingers on his knee, watching the ground below. After a bit more silence, Lui clears his throat.

 

“Kapow, time to blow. Ready?”

 

Evan stares out the window as the signal is given, watching as the floods of people begin exiting the building at the sounded fire alarms. Lui speaks again, and the calm demeanor of the pedestrians quickly changes, people scattering at the sudden exploding of the buildings. The blasts are so large that even in a helicopter a few blocks away, Evan can feel the low rumble through his chest, and his stomach flips as he watches.

 

He just stares at the smoke rising from the damaged buildings, almost unable to believe that this is caused by _his crew._ They're usually cautious when it comes to pedestrians, which he supposes they were this time with pulling the fire alarms first, but he has a sinking feeling that people were still in those buildings.

 

Multiple vehicles begin flooding the streets, beginning with Firetrucks and Ambulances, then eventually police cruisers. Tyler and his group of Vagos are the first to have police show up on their street, raining bullets from their hiding spots each chance they have. It's not long after that the LSPD begin sending all they have to the buildings, the officers frantically trying to figure out where exactly the others are hiding.

 

“Place looks drained from here,” Lui says through the headset, directed to Evan. “Ready to go down?”

 

Evan nods to him, taking the headset from his head and replacing it with his owl mask. Lui begins bringing the Helicopter closer to the lot of the police station, Evan carefully climbing into the back of the Helicopter with his gun to grab a hold of the extra vest. Once they land, Evan takes a deep breath, jumping from the helicopter and rushing into the building.

 

There's sirens and phones ringing all throughout the building, receptionists and jailers frantically running around and giving orders in response to the mayhem happening outside. With everyone busy, they hardly notice Evan, giving him a chance to stealthily slip into the stairwell and rush to the quieter downstairs. There's hardly any sound in the cells, the only thing Evan hearing is the jailed people asking each other what the hell could be going on. No one notices Evan at first, but once he's noticed, the prisoner makes his presence known.

 

“The fuck kinda dress up bullshit are you takin' part in?” The older, obviously intoxicated man slurs through the bars. Evan just ignores him, glancing through the bars for the one he's looking for.

 

“Dude, thas the owl man,” Another voice says from across the way, an obvious gang member leaning against the cell bars. “Vanoss, right?”

 

“I don't really have time for you guys at the moment,” Evan huffs, losing patience with finding Ze.

 

He finally gets to the furthest cell, glancing inside once he's there. Ze is thankfully inside, laying on the poorly made bed with his back towards the bars, foot thumping quietly against the wall. There's no one else in the cell, and with a quick look around, Evan points the barrel of his shotgun into the cheap latch and pulls the trigger, everyone jumping at the loud pings. Ze is the most surprised, scrambling to pull his legs close to him and press his back to the wall, staring to Evan as the owl forces the door open.

 

“Are you seriously gonna kill me while I'm in jail?” Steven asks Evan in panic. “Listen, I know I did stupid stuff, but seriously, it's useless..”

 

Ze practically begs for Evan not to kill him, and Evan just stares.

 

“Ze, I'm busting you out. Please, calm down.”

 

“Oh,” Ze says simply, standing from his place and walking over to Evan. Evan holds up the vest. “What?”

 

“Hemophilia, right? Put this on. It's crazy upstairs.”

 

Ze slowly takes the vest, letting Evan help with a few of the adjustments. Evan does his best to ignore the angered hollers of the other prisoners, calling him unfair for only going for Ze and whatnot.

 

“Um,” Ze mumbles afterwards. “Who are you?”

 

“Vanoss,” Evan says. “I work for Sark, he said your friends need you out, so I'm here. Here..”

 

Evan pulls a pistol from his waistband, handing it to the other. Ze points it almost right at Evan the second he gets it, making Evan freeze. Before he registers it, Ze pulls the trigger, and the pain Evan was expecting never comes.

 

A thump draws Evan's attention from behind and he turns, eyes falling to the police officer limp on the floor. Evan just nods a bit, turning back to Ze. “Nice.”

 

“Can we leave?” Ze anxiously asks.

 

Evan tugs Ze along, pulling him back upstairs with his shotgun pointed ahead of him. Ze's practically clinging to Evan, his grip getting tighter once they get to the commotion outside. The helicopter is still there as promised, and Ze is obviously not very okay with this.

 

“Hope you like vomit,” Ze hollers as he climbs into the back. Evan just laughs a bit and follows him in, taking a shot at an officer across the lot. Lui tosses a pair of headsets into the back and Evan catches them, handing one to Ze and tugging off his mask for his own.

 

“Kapow, time to roll out!” Lui's voice comes through, getting mumbles of agreement from the other team. “Hope you like flying, Ze, because this may get bumpy.”

 

“I like flying at a solid 0 percent.”

 

“He's pulling your leg,” Marcel's voice comes through this time. “He'll go easy on you.”

 

“There are a lot more voices than bodies,” Ze says, looking between Evan and Lui with a confused expression.

 

“We have others helping with the breakout,” Vanoss tells him, not questioning it when Ze just stares at him for a moment, studying him without a mask.

 

“Pickup, checking in, how are things down there?” Lui says into the headset.

 

“As good as you'd expect,” Brock says. “How are your guys getting out?”

 

“They can handle it, I know them,” Lui assures Brock. “Wildcat, Basically, what's up?”

 

“Tight,” Wildcat responds.

 

“Not gonna lie, my leg is banged up a bit, and I had to shake a few of these guys off,” Marcel comes through. “I'll be a tad late for the meetup but I ain't trailing these guys there.”

 

“Wildcat, be on call for making an emergency pickup for Basically,” Evan orders, staring at the ground below the moving helicopter.

 

The line goes silent as they continue their flight North, heading for the shore. Ze is constantly trying to avoid looking directly out of the helicopter, studying the pattern of the metal that creates the helicopter to distract himself somehow. Evan finds himself watching him occasionally, unable to believe how Ze didn't even hesitate or flinch when he shot a man between the eyes, but shrinks away when he gets too high off the ground. Evan finds it... Interesting, in a way, though he never thinks too much on the subject.

 

When they land on the shore, Evan's glad to see all three cars and crew members together, Marcel sitting on the hood of one of the cars with Tyler and Brock on either side of him. Once they land, Evan climbs out, gulping when he sees Tyler having to support Marcel to the Chopper.

 

They get everyone situated, the three giving small waves to Ze once they're inside. Lui takes off again, Evan taking the time to look at Marcel's leg. There are a few scrapes on each leg, but his right leg is covered in a few large bruises that have begun to form. His right ankle is swollen, bruises showing from under his socks. Marcel notices him looking and rubs an uninjured area lightly.

 

“Cops found me haulin' ass down the stairs, I got knocked.. I took one of them down the stairs with me, though.”

 

“We might need to take him to a hospital, Lui,” Evan says, looking to the pilot. Lui just waves a bit, aiming them for Chiliad. “Start thinking up some cover stories.”

 

“He fell down the stairs trying to get out of the building because it was on fire,” Ze shrugs. “Just get him a change of clothes and he shouldn't be too suspicious.”

 

“Worth a shot,” Tyler shrugs.

 

“Can we please be a bit more careful?” Marcel whimpers, shifting in his spot. “I really don't wanna go to jail.”

 

“You won't,” Tyler assures him.

 

After a while longer of flying, Marcel's uncomfortable shifting, and Ze's awkward fear of heights, they finally land in a clear area of the lightly wooded place, sending leaves and little twigs everywhere with the chopper blades. The helicopter slowly turns off, everyone tossing headsets and masks to the front of the helicopter. Ze scrambles out, practically faceplanting into the ground. He just lays there, patting the grass lightly.

 

“How I missed you, ground,” Ze groans, getting a pat on the back from Evan.

 

“You did good,” Evan tells him, watching the other sit up. He helps Ze get the vest off, tossing it into the open helicopter once more.

 

Marcel swings his legs out, taking off his own vest and leaving himself in just his shorts. Ze watches him for a moment, eyes moving to Tyler in his suit, then to Brock in his tank top and sweatpants.

 

“So, you're Banana Bus? The guys all over the news? You look.... Kinda lame,” Ze tells them after a moment.

 

Marcel makes a sound of disagreement, striking a small pose the best he can. “You tryna tell me these shorts aren't cool?”

 

“All of us are telling you those shorts aren't cool,” Brock deadpans, getting laughs from the other crew members. Tyler and Marcel look up, Tyler's face lighting up a bit. Evan, Brock and Ze turn a bit, watching as Sark and Craig make their way over. Craig immediately presses a small kiss to Tyler's cheek, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

 

“Damages?” Craig asks. Tyler points to Marcel's leg and Craig hisses. “Jesus, what did you do, fall down the stairs?”

 

Marcel just looks away, rubbing the back of his head. Craig drops his shoulders, watching the other. “Are you serious?”

 

“There were cops, man, I was hurrying!” Marcel argues, getting a head shake from Craig.

 

Sark pats Evan on the shoulder, looking at Ze on the ground. “Welcome to Los Santos.”

 

“You're Sark, aren't you?” Ze asks. Sark nods a bit, greeting Lui silently when he exits the helicopter. “My boss talks a lot about you.”

 

“He should,” Sark jokes, peeking behind him. “Welp..”

 

“Stevie?”

 

Anthony's voice practically makes Ze freeze in place, his face quickly changing between a variety of expressions, from confused to horrified to happy. It seems to take him a minute to register the voice, but once he does, he darts his head around, stopping when his eyes land on Chilled, walking up from behind Sark and Evan. After their eyes lock, Steven wastes no time in scrambling to his feet and rushing over to Chilled, arms tightly clinging around the other's neck. Chilled keeps his arms tight around Ze's waist, almost pulling the other off the ground in the tight embrace. Evan, Sark, and Lui are the only ones actually paying attention to the interactions, the other's debating on what exactly to do for Marcel quietly, but the two ignore the rest of the group.

 

“You're a dick!” Ze says, lightly pushing Chilled away and slapping his palm onto Chilled's arm.

 

“I'm sorry!” Chilled rubs where he was slapped. “If I had known you were gonna turn to business, I would've stayed..”

 

“You could've called..” Ze shrugged. Anthony only shakes his head a little bit.

 

“It was too risky, Stevie, I'm sorry...” Anthony just looks down at Ze for a moment, his face suddenly falling in concern. “Z-Ze are you crying?

 

“I missed my best friend, you fuck, yes I'm crying!” Ze slaps his arm again, getting a small chuckle and another tight hug from Chilled. The two stay latched this time, ignoring the other people around them. Sark sighs heavily beside Evan, drawing the owl's attention.

 

“I'm not gonna like breaking this up,” Sark mumbles to the two beside him. Evan just stares for a moment.

 

“What do you mean?” Evan quietly asks.

 

“Ze can't stay,” Sark shrugs. “There's too much heat on him here, we're taking him back to Canada for a while...”

 

Evan feels some sort of secondhand pain in his chest for Chilled and Ze, knowing how heartbroken they're gonna be about being separated again. They fit well together, but in what way Evan couldn't say. He can just see it. It's been proven how close they are with their interactions over the past few minutes as well, the two still holding each other tight as the others talk away. Lui's the one to volunteer to break the news, and Sark lets him go ahead.

 

Lui walks to the two, tapping on Chilled's shoulder to get their attention. What he says is inaudible to the rest of the group, but it's obvious that he didn't sugar coat it, the pair's shoulder's dropping and eyes losing their excited shine. Evan decides to turn away, turning his attention to the three in the helicopter still.

 

Marcel has his right leg inside the chopper with him, his shoe off, showing just how swollen his ankle is. Craig, Moo and Tyler are quietly talking together, Craig seeming to be in charge of whatever conversation they're having. Evan slides himself into the conversation subtly.

 

“-One of the one's in the North.. Won't be too close to all the shit you caused, so you should hopefully be clear,” Craig directs to Marcel. Evan taps his shoulder lightly, and Craig nods to him. “I think he may have fractured his ankle or even broke it, because it's not right.. We're gonna get him cleaned up a bit and changed, then I'm gonna take him to one of the North hospitals.”

 

“Story?” Evan asks.

 

“Racing Mini down our apartment stairwell, I tripped and fell,” Marcel huffs from his spot, groaning quietly as he shifts his leg. Evan nods a bit, reaching in and patting the tired looking man on the shoulder.

 

“We'll have your bed nice and soft for you,” Evan smiles, getting a half-assed grin from the injured friend.

 

Sark brought both Marcel's Patriot and his own truck, helping Evan load the guns, vests and masks into the trunk of the Patriot while Tyler and Craig carefully get Marcel laid out on the back seats. Marcel is absolutely exhausted, leaning against the door with his sunglasses on to block the setting sun. Tyler and Craig climb into the front seats, giving Evan and Brock small fist bumps before they pull away from the group to get Marcel taken care of.

 

Ze and Chilled have taken a seat in the grass away from the others, shoulder to shoulder with their backs to everyone, talking quietly to each other. Lui told the they'd have a while to catch up, but they'd have to take off once the sun has completely set. After that, they've just been side by side like that, talking as much as they can. Lui and Sark are having their own conversations while they wait, walking around the area a bit and just generally chilling.

 

Brock sits with Evan in the back of the chopper, neither of them actually saying anything to each other. They just wait together, watching the sky change through a rainbow of its colors before eventually going dark, dotted with bright stars they're easily able to see with the lack of city lights around them.

 

Ze and Chilled eventually drag themselves to the helicopter with Lui, Anthony and Ze sharing one more tight hug before Ze turns to Evan.

 

“Thanks, for getting me out and what not.. I'm sure you got a goo reward,” He says. Evan just smiles and shrugs, shaking the others hand lightly before Ze turns and climbs back into the chopper.

 

With that, the two are in the sky again, flying off until they're hidden by the trees. Chilled isn't happy, pretty much dragging his feet across the grass to Sark's SUV. They pile in and Sark pulls onto the road, heading for Vinewood once again. The drive is silent, mood dull, and Evan stares out the window and watches the scenery that passes, the thought of tomorrow being November 1st completely slipping his mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> abrupt endings and bad chapters yes perfect yes
> 
> im trying to make this fanfiction good all the way through to the end but for some reason it's becoming quite difficult ;c ill pull through children just wait for me,,,,,,,,,,i have such horrible ideas for this fanfiction and they're just finally about to get started.. i've also realized that this fanfiction is a bit closer to it's end then i've thought it was, because even though then next few events take place quite a far ways apart, there will be many time skips. so yeah. next few chapters will be an adventure.
> 
> im also super sorry about my fucked up posting schedule, like ive said before im just slowly slipping away and its making me quite upset. i've decided i probably wont try to keep a schedule anymore, and just post a chapter whenever i finish it. so that means updates can be within a day, or maybe even a whopping week. we'll see what happens.
> 
> much love <3


	27. What about strike three?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god im finally enjoying the fanfic again yessssssssss bring me the violence thats soon to come.
> 
> so, in this chapter, everything pretty much goes from 0 to 100 like reeeeeeeeal quick, so from this point forward, shits going to get fuuuuuucking weird. i hope you guys will enjoy it as much as i am. it's hella fun c;
> 
> if any warnings are needed, i guess it would be that everyone is incredibly gay and theres light references to the weeds. so. have fun with that.
> 
> also, NOGLA IS FINALLY HERE. HE'S FINALLY BECOMING A BIG THING. YE. YEEEEEEEEES.
> 
> ill see you in the ending notes, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ :3

The house has been extremely quiet. Evan and Brock were dropped off at around midnight, greeted by Tyler, who had been alone since Craig took Marcel away. Brock and Tyler tried to stay up, waiting for Marcel and Craig to return, but the two were so exhausted that they ended up passing out, cuddled up on the couch. Evan can't bring himself to _try_ getting sleep, instead throwing a blanket over the two on the couch and moving to the small office by the front door. Craig hasn't answered any of Evan's texts, but he doesn't really blame him. They're obviously busy.

 

The two finally return home at nearly three in the morning, Evan's attention being grabbed by the loud rhythmic clacking of Marcel's new crutches against the hard floor. Evan waves Marcel into the office, holding the rolling chair steady for Marcel to lower himself in to. They both look exhausted, Marcel more than Craig, and Evan expects nothing less from their several hour long trip. Craig holds up a small, white paper bag to Evan, dropping it when Evan holds his hand out for it.

 

“Those are just his medications. Pain relief and stuff,” Craig tells him with a small huff. Evan nods a bit, eyes skimming over the bottle details.

 

“How do you feel?” Evan asks Marcel, putting the bag and bottle on the table. Marcel only groans a bit, rubbing one of his eyes.

 

“Get high, go to bed,” Marcel mumbles, getting a chuckle from Evan. “Wait, shit.... I'm not going up those stairs all banged up and shit. Fuck me, dude..”

 

Evan scrunches up his nose a bit in thought. “How long are you gonna be down?”

 

“At least 6 weeks,” Marcel sighs.

 

“Well, we can move your air mattress to the heist room for a while, so you can just stay down here... We'll have to wait until tomorrow, though.”

 

“Today,” Craig corrects him. Evan rolls his eyes a bit.

 

“Today, whatever. I'll wake the dweebs up, get you the couch. We can pad it up and shit with extra pillows and what not for you,” Evan tells him, patting Marcel's shoulder lightly. Marcel nods a bit to him, leaning back in the chair.

 

Evan leaves the office, looking over his shoulder when he hears soft footsteps behind him. Craig is following close behind, waving a little when he notices Evan looking at him. The two move to the living room where Tyler and Brock lay, Evan almost feeling bad for having to wake them up. He reaches a hand out, lightly shaking onto Brock's shoulder. Brock shifts a bit, groaning a little at the small shakes.

 

“Moo-moo,” Evan mumbles, kneeling next to the couch. Brock cracks an eye open to look at the other, huffing a bit through his nose. “Marcel needs the couch, you and Ty gotta get to bed.”

 

Brock groans a little again, slowly sitting up in his spot. Craig gets Tyler up, Tyler being very grumpy at having being woken up, but he follows Craig upstairs slowly nonetheless, feet dragging across the floor every step. Evan stands up straight, smiling a bit when Brock holds his arms up towards Evan. He provides Brock with a shoulder to lightly lean on as they make their way upstairs, Brock nuzzling his nose into Evan's arm sleepily.

 

Evan gets Brock laid down, but he doesn't climb in with him, instead heading for the door again. Brock huffs once more, watching him leave, sleepily calling out, “Why aren't you sleeping?”

 

“Got work to do,” Evan says to him from the doorway. “I'll be here soon, just sleep for a while. Besides, you have the huge ass bed to yourself right now.”

 

“I don't like having it to my self,” Brock pouts, turning his back to Evan. Evan grins a bit at the other.

 

“Soon,” Evan says, quietly closing the bedroom door.

 

He heads back downstairs, holding Marcel's blanket and pillows that he's gathered from the other's room and dropping them on the floor. He fixes the couch up and lays an extra blanket across the cushions, putting the pillows up comfortably at one end of the couch. Small footsteps from Craig enter the room and Evan turns, raising an eyebrow at the other.

 

“Aren't you tired?” Evan asks him. Craig just shrugs a bit. “Tell Marcel it's time for him to lay down, please.”

 

Craig turns and leaves the living room, leaving Evan to himself for a few minutes. When he comes back, Marcel is close behind, pulling himself with his crutches to the couch and flopping himself down. Evan giggles a bit as he watches, amused by how worn out he is.

 

“Need anything?” Evan asks.

 

“Big kid stuff,” Marcel mumbles into his pillow, pointing to the stairs. “Top drawer of my nightstand, please.”

 

Craig nods to Evan and heads to Marcel's room, Evan turning and slipping out the back door. For a few minutes, he sits alone on the edge of the pool, staring up at the stars and watching a plane or two pass by. All sorts of thoughts run through his mind, especially the thoughts of having to tell Terroriser that he won't have his payment _once again_. The person who requested Ze be saved refuses to pay them until he has Ze pretty much in his grasp, and with no confirmation text from Lui yet, Evan feels like they may be fucked once more. Even if Lui were to text him within the next hour, he isn't sure if they'd be able to get the _cash_ in time.

 

“Ev?”

 

Evan turns at the voice, waving Mini over when he sees him near the door. Craig comes to sit with him, yawning loudly once he's sat down.

 

“You need to go to bed,” Evan tells him.

 

“Not until you do,” Craig counters. Evan sighs loudly at the other. “What about your meeting?”

 

“I don't know,” Evan sighs. “We're fucked this payment period..”

 

The two are silent for a moment, Craig swaying his hand slowly in the pool. “I'd play it safe if I were you.”

 

“What do you mean?” Evan asks.

 

“Don't go to the meeting today empty handed,” Craig tells him. “Call him beforehand and just tell him you don't have it.. I read up on some of the police reports that had to do with him and his crew and he's super uncool. Who knows what he would do to you.”

 

Evan nods a bit, silently deciding to take Craig's advice. He doesn't even want to think about the possibilities Craig is talking about, instead staring back out at the city and sky. Craig yawns beside him once again, this time standing up afterwards.

 

“Get some sleep, Evan. You need it.”

 

Craig pats him on the back lightly, taking himself back inside. Evan doesn't move right away, instead sits alone for another few minutes before finally heading to bed. It's almost 4 in the morning when Evan makes it to bed, scooting himself closer to Brock's sleeping body. It takes him forever to actually get sleepy, still too anxious to feel tired.

 

Evan's not sure what time he finally fell asleep.. All he knows is that he could see the sun starting to shine through the curtains just before he drifted off. He won't be getting much sleep today.

 

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

 

There's an annoying song faintly filling Evan's head, causing him to shift in his sleep. He's getting uncomfortable, and he's beginning to notice someone faintly calling for him.

 

“Evan,” Moo mumbles, his hand lightly patting against Evan's chest. Evan groans a little and opens his eyes, meeting face to face with an equally tired Brock. The song is louder now, coming from Evan's nightstand. He can tell exactly who it is already, and his stomach churns a bit. “You need to answer it, Ev..”

 

“No,” Evan grumbles, turning completely towards Brock and practically hiding his face in Brock's shoulder. Brock lets his arm fall limp around Evan, huffing a bit at the other.

 

The song soon ends and the room is quiet, other than faint talking from outside their bedroom. They lay together for a few more silent minutes.

 

“You know you're gonna have to call him back, or his majesty won't be pleased,” Moo mumbles into Evan's hair. Evan only nods a little bit, making no attempts to move.

 

After another moment, Evan reaches behind him, grabbing his phone from the nightstand and looking at the screen. He does, in fact, have both a missed text and call from Brian, the text simply telling Evan that it's close to meeting time. Evan drops the phone back on the bed, pressing himself back into Brock.

 

“I'll do it when I'm awake,” He grumbles.

 

“Well, it's almost one, so that's gonna be... now.”

 

Brock starts sitting up, getting nothing but whines from Evan. “You may wanna get up, but I'm gonna stay here,” Evan says.

 

“Oh, stop your whining,” Brock tells him, standing from the bed. “Besides, you and I both know you don't like sleeping in that bed alone.”

 

“Hey, that's you, not me..”

 

The bedroom door closes after Brock, and Evan pouts a bit. It isn't true, he can always sleep by himself. He's done it before, he'll totally do it again. Totally.

 

But he doesn't. Instead, he drags himself out of bed slowly, slipping a tank top over himself and taking his phone downstairs. Brock and Tyler are awake, Marcel still asleep on the couch, but answering their questions every once in a while. Every time he does, Tyler and Brock snicker at each other, saying something about sleeptalking.

 

Tyler waves a little at Evan from the dining room table, watching as the owl sits in one of the seats around the table. Brock comes limping from the kitchen, a mug of coffee in each hand, placing one in front of Evan before he sits down with the other two. Evan nods in thanks, taking a small sip.

 

The three stay quiet, listening to Marcel snore on the couch. Evan's constantly reminding himself of calling Brian, and the longer he thinks about it, the sicker he feels. He doesn't want to do it, but the longer he waits, the larger the possibility for something bad to happen. He reluctantly stands from his spot, coffee mug and phone in his hands. Both heads follow Evan, and it's Tyler who breaks the silence.

 

“What's up?” He asks.

 

“Phone call,” Evan mumbles, heading for the sliding doors. Neither of the two respond, leaving Evan to call Brian back.

 

He sits near the pool, squinting against the bright sun. He stares at his phone in his hand, hesitant to begin dialing. But he has to. He _needs_ to.

 

Evan reluctantly dials Terroriser's number, putting the phone to his ear and listening through the rings. There's a soft bump on his shoulder, and he turns his head to see Brock lowering himself to sit next to him. Evan nods a bit to him, moving the phone between them so they can both hear.

 

“ _Why are you calling me?”_ Terroriser's voice comes through. Evan cringes a bit.

 

“I couldn't get the money,” Evan tells him.

 

“ _Run that by me again,”_ Brian says in an upset tone.

 

“You know what I said,” Evan sighs. “There's no payment. I got nothing.”

 

There's a strange silence, Evan and Brock sharing looks between each other. There's a sigh from the other end, before Terroriser's voice comes through once more.

 

“ _Your services are no longer required, Vanoss. Forget the debt.”_

 

“Wh-What?” Evan fumbles.

 

“ _Have a fun rest of your life.”_

 

The call ends, and Evan doesn't move. Brock looks at him, a look of relief on his face. Evan's completely confused, slowly lowering the phone.

 

“Why aren't you happy?” Brock asks. Evan raises an eyebrow, staring at the other. “Evan, we don't have to give him anything anymore. 'Our services are no longer required' and stuff, right? We're done!”

 

“Done..” Evan repeats. The word feels horrible in his mouth, his stomach churning at the echoing of Terroriser's words in his head. Something feels awfully wrong about this, but Evan doesn't understand what exactly is bothering him. They're _done,_ he should be cheering, but he just can't. “Yeah..”

 

“Yeah?” Brock repeats.

 

“...Yeah?”

 

“We have to let the others know,” Brock tugs on his arm. “They'll be excited to hear it.”

 

“Sure...”

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

Evan couldn't help but try to get in a nap after the small crew meeting, even without Brock to lay next to him. He's still so tired from _everything._ He can't seem to get enough sleep, no matter how long he's out.

 

It takes a while for Evan to finally start dozing off, but the light sleep doesn't last long. He's brought back by a faint door slam from downstairs, and even a few yells. He doesn't register them at first, only shifting a bit in his place, but when the footsteps come up the stairs and bust into his bedroom, he can't _not_ wake up.

 

“Evan??” Lui yells through the doorway, freezing when he sees Evan in bed. Arlan appears in the doorway a second later, panic on both of their faces. Evan sits up slowly, staring at the two in confusion with tired eyes. Lui sighs a bit and runs his hands through his hair, sharing a look with Droid.

 

“What the hell is going on?” Evan groans at the two.

 

“You're a dead man,” Lui tells him, earning a slap on the arm from Droid. “By the way, I'm back from Canada.”

 

“Is that some sort of threat?” Evan asks. Brock, Craig and Tyler appear behind the couple, Brock pushing through them to sit on the edge of the bed.

 

“Evan, have you heard nothing?” Droid asks. Everyone is silent. “Evan, Terroriser is after you.”

 

“That's a bit obvious, don't you think?” Tyler butts in.

 

“Not like that,” Lui says. “Vanoss was put, like, at the top of his hit list. Number one priority.”

 

“Evan has a hit on him??” Craig yelps, getting nods from both Lui and Droid. The room becomes tense, no one moving, and no one speaking.

 

“Okay wait,” Evan says, rubbing his face with his hands. “How do you know all of this?”

 

“Nogla,” Droid replies blandly. The name rings a bell immediately, and an image of the guy with a paper bag over his head from Evan's first meeting flashes through his mind. “He let us know not too long ago.”

 

“Why would he do that?” Evan asks.

 

“He works for us,” Lui says. “Has been for like, two years. Guy's an idiot, but he's good at staying under cover. He's very useful, and super loyal. Sark even knows him to a degree.”

 

It clicks in his head once again, the fact that Evan's had a major hit placed on him, and he suddenly feels like he wants to cry. He wants to cry because he's scared. He want to cry because he's beginning to get anxious. He wants to cry because, suddenly, his head is filled with the thought of him not living long enough to see Christmas. Dozens of questions fill his head, but there's only one that he croaks out.

 

“Is anyone else on the list?” Evan asks. Lui slowly shakes his head. “Is everyone safe?”

 

“If they stay out of the way,” Arlan mumbles. “Yeah.”

 

Evan suddenly feels like he's suffocating, gripping the blankets on the bed lightly. His shoulders are trembling a bit, heart beating loud in his ears. His anxiety is beginning to seriously get to him, and he's not doing well with hiding it.

 

“We're sending some of our guys out here to keep watch around here, make sure no one's lurking,” Arlan tells everyone. “Nogla is helping as well, sabotaging information Brian is gathering on Evan.”

 

“It's not gonna be worth it,” Evan grumbles to them.

 

“The help is appreciated,” Craig butts in. “Keep us updated.”

 

With that, the couple leaves the four crew members alone, heading back to their own safehouse. Brock shoos the rest of the crew out of the room, closing himself and Evan inside. Evan can't think straight, too terrified by the idea of any breath potentially being his last to concentrate on anything. He's dead. He's so fucking dead.

 

“I'm so dead,” Evan whimpers, unable to stop the tears that force their way down Evan's cheeks. “I'm so fucked, oh my god...”

 

“Evan, please,” Brock says quietly, gripping the owl's shoulders lightly. “We can keep you safe..”

 

“Bullshit!” Evan yelps, knocking both of Brock's hands away. Evan shrinks back a bit, unable to take his eyes away from Brock's. The older just watches him, keeping his hands away. Fresh tears begin to stream down Evan's cheeks and he finds himself wrapping his arms around Brock's waist, pulling the other close and burying his face in his stomach. “I'm so sorry...”

 

Brock carefully gets himself out of Evan's grasp before sitting on the bed next to Evan, pulling the younger back into his arms in a tight hug. There's nothing Brock can really say to make anything that they've learned better, and even if there were, Evan wouldn't listen. He's focusing too much on all the ways Terroriser could go about getting rid of Evan to listen to any sort of plans or reasoning. He's come to the conclusion that he's officially, completely, and utterly dead.

 

And there's nothing that will keep him safe anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i said, 0 to 100 real quick.
> 
> literally rip to everyone.
> 
> this fanfiction is like 7 or 8 chapters (maybe i think thats just an estimation) from it's end and i almost cant believe it's taken this long to get the story across. it's been really fun, and the amount of people that have enjoyed it has been amazing. I'm excited to continue writing this to the end, but if it ever seems like im hesitant to update or anything, just know that its literally all because im so terrified that you guys arent going to enjoy how it turns out and blah blah blah im too worried about impressing you guys but i'm pretty sure i'll get over it. am i just being dramatic? probably. let me have my moments. 
> 
> Also, fair warning, like a few chapters before it starts happening, the events that are about to take place may be quite dark for some peoples tastes, so if you aren't alright with intense murder and quite literal heartbreak and other intense emotions and actions, sucks for uuuuuuuuuu (jk i love you and im sorry if it turns you away)
> 
> you guys are cool, and i'll see you in the next update <3 party in the most excellent ways, dudes


	28. i dont have a chapter title help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY AM I POSTING THIS IM SO NOT OK WITH THIS CHAPTER
> 
> guys. /guys/. the comments on the last chapter holy shit. they were all so heartwarming and adorable and nice and i loved them all so so much, you guys are so cool <3 im sorry if i didnt reply to yours, i literally was just so excited about how everyone responded that i just kinda died???? so thank you to everyone who gave the cute little comments last chapter they were great <3
> 
> shits going down. vanoo is really really good. like i love vanoo so much. i also really love minicat. is there anything i dont like?
> 
> im at that point again where i hate what im writing and im really scared to post them but yolo i dont even care anymore im just so excited to get through the huge dEATH SCREAMS that are gonna go down that i /have/ to post. i also cant come up with chapter titles anymore apparently, so.............................. ye
> 
> im sorry if there are errors, i quite literally havent slept for about 47 hours, so proofreading isnt perfect right now,,, i'll see you in the end notes, and as always, I hope ye enjoy <3333

It's been almost two weeks since Banana Bus found out about the hit on Evan, and in that two weeks, Evan hasn't stepped foot out of his house. He's had no desire to go anywhere, leaving the others to do jobs as they please. He spends time with Marcel whenever he decides to actually leave the bedroom, keeping the other company while he's stuck on the couch. They don't talk a lot to each other when they're together, they just watch shows together or play some games. They're close, of course, but the two seem to find the most comfort between each other with silence.

 

Brock hasn't been too fond of Evan's hiding, often trying to get Evan to come with him to the store or out to get fast food. Evan always has an excuse lined up, telling Brock he “isn't hungry” or “about to work out” or something like that, just because he can't bring himself to tell Brock he's scared to go outside. Brock obviously knows Evan's lying, but he never addresses it. He must know it's pointless to try and reason with someone as lost as Evan.

 

Craig, however, doesn't give up. Almost every morning, he tries to get Evan to drive him to work or come watch Ponsonby's while Craig's working, but Evan obviously turns him down. Tonight, however, is a lot different. Craig's lost his patience, and he's not gonna let Evan sit around in fear the rest of his life.

 

“Evan!!” Craig squawks from upstairs. Evan jumps a bit next to Marcel, sharing a questioning look with the other on the couch next to him. He slowly moves to his feet, stopping when the lad appears at the bottom of the stairs, Tyler making his way down the stairs slowly behind him. “Get ready.”

 

“Ready for what?” Evan asks.

 

“We're going to the movies, you're coming with.” Craig walks past him, heading to Marcel. “Can you drive? Or should I?”

 

“You, please,” Marcel replies, scooting to the edge of the couch to start putting a shoe on his uninjured foot.

 

“Craig, you know I don't like the theaters,” Evan tries to talk his way out.

 

“Total bullshit,” Craig tells him. “We're all going out, now get your ass upstairs with Brock and get ready.”

 

“Craig--”

 

“Evan.”  
  
“Mini!-”  
  
“Stop!” Craig yells, turning to face the other. Evan shrinks back a bit, lips closed tight. “You're making yourself fucking sick just sitting in this house and avoiding everything! You're coming with us. You need the fresh air and socializing.”

 

“I'm avoiding dying!” Evan protests.

 

“You're making your situation worse! Evan, we understand you're scared.. We understand how much this must be fucking with you.. We understand that we probably aren't feeling the intensity of emotions that you are..” Craig's shoulder's drop a bit, and he turns his head to avoid eye contact with Evan. “But for fucks sake, Evan, you're making us feel horrible! You're making _Brock_ feel awful! You hiding here is just showing us that you don't trust us to protect you... and it hurts!”  
  
“I trust you guys,” Evan squeaks out.

 

“Then act like it.”  
  


No one moves for a while, Evan thinking over everything Craig said and thinking about what he should do. He loves his friends, more than anything, and he wants them to be happy. But at the same time, he wants to be alive to see them happy. Evan slowly runs a hand through his hair, peeking at the stairs to see Brock observing everyone from the steps. Brock almost looks upset, avoiding looking at Evan, and Craig's words begin to hit Evan even harder. He didn't realize how his own feelings were affecting everyone, and he feels awful for never seeing it.

 

He sighs a bit, looking away from everyone. “What movie are we seeing?”

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

“That was the worst movie ever,” Marcel says, shifting uncomfortably on his crutches. The other four members follow him out of the large movie room, snickering a bit behind him.

 

“That was the _best_ movie ever, what are you talking about?” Tyler says. “What's better than a half dude, half helicopter, doing some alien fuckfest thing with explosions and spaceships??”

 

“I didn't understand a bit of that movie,” Brock deadpans.

 

“I think I fell asleep a few times,” Evan jokes. Tyler whines, jaw dropping a bit.

 

“It's gonna get so many awards, just you wait,” Tyler tells them.

 

“I wanna get some snacks and stuff before we leave,” Craig says, heading to the huge counters in the front of the Theater. Tyler obviously follows him, trying to convince him the movie was amazing. The other three follow behind, Brock and Evan on either side of Marcel.

 

Almost the entire front wall of the theater is windows and glass doors, showing the large parking lot outside. The sun has set since they got there, but there are bright lamps scattered about, one right above Marcel's patriot. Evan can see the car from where they stand inside, exactly where they parked it, and he's excited to get home and go back to bed. He yawns a bit, turning towards Brock, exchanging tiny smiles with the other. The two stay silent together for a few moments, and just before Evan opens his mouth to speak to the older, Marcel squawks next to them, pointing a crutch outside.

 

“Yo, someone's all up on my car!” Marcel yelps. Evan and Brock turn again, looking through the glass. There is, in fact, someone picking their way through the driver's door, slipping themselves inside. Brock shoves Evan a bit, trying to get him to go after them. Evan's stands still for a small moment, completely confused as to how he didn't see the person there. Tyler begins running out, and Evan follows him, the two running to save Marcel's vehicle from being hijacked.

 

They get out the doors and the lights to the Patriot turn on, and after a split second of silence, there's a deafening boom, Marcel's car being completely engulfed in flames, glass and metal shooting in all directions. Tyler and Evan stumble, Evan falling to the ground, and the two are completely frozen, staring at the fire. A car beside the Patriot has caught on fire now, and a few seconds later, it explodes as well, sending more glass and whatnot through the parking lot.

 

“What the fuck just happened??” Marcel yelps from the door, staring at the fires. Evan just keeps staring, completely horrified. Their fucking car just _exploded,_ for seemingly no reason, and Evan feels like he's dreaming. He wants to wake up, he wants this to all be fake. He wants them to be okay.

 

“Did someone just fucking try to kill us??” Craig squeaks, grabbing frantically at Tyler's arm. Brock pulls Evan off the ground, neither of the two able to peel their eyes away from the fire.

 

“...You think this was Terroriser?” Tyler asks, wrapping an arm protectively around Craig's waist.

 

“I think that's a bit obvious,” Evan mumbles, hands trembling at his sides.

 

“How did he even do it?” Brock asks quietly, gently locking his and Evan's fingers together, thumb giving soothing strokes to the back of Evan's hand. Evan only shakes his head, listening to the sirens beginning to sound in the distance, slowly creeping closer.

 

“I think it's safe to say,” Tyler mumbles to the crew. “Evan's in a lot more danger than we originally thought.”

 

“We need to go,” Craig tells them, looking around at the crowds of people that have gathered around the flames, calling the police or taking pictures of the scene. Evan can't take his eyes off of the deathtrap, keeping a tight grip on Brock's hand.

 

“That person wasn't supposed to die,” Evan whispers to Brock. Brock turns Evan away from the scene, locking eyes with the owl.

 

“We need to go, Evan,” Brock repeats to him. Evan only nods a little bit, turning his head when he hears Tyler on the phone with someone.

 

“My car..” Marcel whimpers, Craig slapping the back of his head.

 

\- --- - ---- - ------ -

 

“I don't know...”

 

“Evan, this is gonna keep you safe,” Brock tells him, putting his hands lightly on Evan's shoulders. Evan pouts a bit, tossing the shirt he's holding into the small suitcase on the bed.

 

“I feel like you're kicking me out,” He mumbles, smiling when Brock pulls him into a light hug.

 

“Yeah, we kinda are,” Brock says, getting a small jab in the ribs from Evan. “Easy! Sark will keep you safe, and it's just gonna be for a few weeks. You'll be alright. We'll still be able to text you and everything. It's not like we're never gonna see each other again.”

 

“Maybe,” Evan mumbles, earning a sigh from the older. “I could just accidentally get myself and Sark killed.”

 

“Sark is the best gunman in Los Santos. Like, he makes the perfect bodyguard. He could totally just follow you around, and every time he sees something potentially dangerous, he could yell 'Get down, Mr. President!' and tackle you to the ground.”

 

Brock presses his fingers lightly into Evan's ribs, tickling the owl lightly. Evan snickers a little and takes a light hold on Brock's ribs, keeping his hands from him, smiling at the older when Brock doesn't try to pull away. The two are silent for a moment, Evan's smile soon fading from his lips. Brock's smile disappears as well, his own eyes following Evan's to the suitcase. Evan pulls away from Brock, stuffing some more pairs of clothing inside along with various other things, feeling some sort of hesitance in his actions. Brock sits on the edge of the bed and watches, choosing to keep his mouth shut.

 

Evan zips the suitcase closed, trying to hype himself up for temporarily moving into Sark's apartment. Everyone thinks it's the safest for both Evan and the rest of the crew, and Evan totally does, too. He's just not happy about having to stay away from the crew for so long. He knows they're all just trying to protect him, but he can't help but feel like they shouldn't even be trying.

 

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better, Brock,” Evan mumbles to the other, choosing not to look at the other as Brock stands up. “I appreciate it, but...”  
  
“You'll be alright,” Brock tells him, taking a light grip on the owl's hands. “Trust me.”  
  
“I trust you,” Evan tells him.

 

“Thank you.”

 

There's a shuffle at the door, followed with harsh whispers and shushes, and the two turn to see the heads of Sark, Craig, and Tyler poking through a small crack in the door. Evan and Brock stare at the three, and they stare right back, no one saying a thing. Sark leans down to the other two, loudly whispering, “I think they see us..”

 

“What are you doing?” Evan asks.

 

“We wanted to see if you two were gonna kiss,” Craig responds with a tiny shrug, pushing himself into the room. A deep blush spreads across Evan's cheeks as he glares at the lad, grabbing his suitcase from the bed.

 

“You're such a child,” Evan tells him, avoiding looking at Brock once more.

 

“I ship it, man,” Craig shrugs.

 

“You ready?” Sark asks Evan. The owl nods a bit, watching Tyler and Craig leave the room. “I'll meet you outside.”

 

Sark turns and leaves, leaving the two alone once more. Evan huffs a bit, cheeks still hot, pouting at the floor childishly. Brock pokes him in the shoulder, holding his arms out for a hug. Evan smiles a bit, giving the older a tight hug.

 

“I'll party with you on your birthday,” Evan tells him.

 

“You better.”

 

“I _will.”_

 

Evan heads down the stairs, suitcase in hand, stopping on the last step when he notices Craig at the bottom. He looks almost upset, eyes avoiding Evan's face. He raises an eyebrow at the Brit, putting his suitcase on one of the steps.

 

“I'm sorry I kinda almost got you killed,” The lad says. “Should've just left you inside..”

 

“Craig, stop, that wasn't your fault,” Evan gives Mini a pat on the shoulder. “It was bound to happen anyway. If it weren't for you wanting to get snacks, we would've been the ones in that car, and _all_ of us would've gone down. You're just fine.”

 

Craig gives him a half smile, reaching out and sharing a light hug with Evan. “See you soon, Ev.”

 

“Later.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ???????????????????,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
> 
> Next chapter is going to be a filler, and also Brocks birthday, which according to my friendly friend and google is november 28, so if that's wrong please dont eat me. but after that, it should be smoooooooooth sailing with chapters filled to the fuckin brim with details and death and less filler things. (i have like 3 chapters written and ready to be proofread and posted and the one AFTER this next filler chapter is like 3000 fucking words jfc im sorry)
> 
> i know i already said this but YA'LLS COMMENTS ON THE LAST CHAPTER WERE SO GREAT AND I HONESTLY LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU. yall dont know how much happy squealing was happening from me while i read them. thank you to everyone who had something to say and im once again sorry i didnt reply to a lot of them 3 ill try to do a lot better about it in the future,,,,,,
> 
> im gonna casually give you guys my tumblr because i occasionally post when i update this and I'm also extremely open to you guys straight up messaging me and starting conversations with me (im actually really shy but i also really like talking to you guys so i always kinda pull thruuuuuuu). there's also music on my blog, so when you visit on desktop, be prepared for my horrible music taste,, gotthat-miniladddclutch.tumblr.com
> 
> see you guys in the next chapter, which i may post tomorrow.... depends on how i feel about it;-; until then, be safe and be cool, yo <3333333333333333333


	29. Hello, baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man here you guys go its the filler chapter with birthday things and tooth rotting fluff and just general cuteness. like always, 100% okay to skip reading this chapter, as i'll highlight anything worth noting in the end notes. also, please excuse how poorly edited this chapter is. i'm sorry >:0
> 
> MAN, I LOVE THIS VANOO AMIRITE HOOOOHOHOHOthey so cute help. 
> 
> if there are any warnings for this chapter, it would probably be just, so much gay and so many beers. because. party hardy.
> 
> i'll see you in the end notes, and as always, i hope ye enjoy <3

“I don't understand how you're not stumbling constantly,” Evan directs to Sark, lounging on the other's couch as he watches Sark open a bottle of beer in the kitchen. Sark grins a bit, bringing the bottle into the living room and sitting with Evan. “It's not even noon.”

 

“It's 6 p.m somewhere, Evan,” Sark smirks, taking a drink. Evan rolls his eyes, looking at his phone again.

 

It's been a bit over a week since Evan's had to move into Sark's apartment in an attempt to help him. Action has been quiet, and the other crew members have been complaining about the low paying jobs they've been getting. Evan wishes so much he could help, but Sark and Lui won't let him. He's been beginning to feel more like he's in intense daycare rather than a safehouse, and it's gotten a bit annoying.

 

It's nice overall, though. The apartment isn't what Evan thought it would be, but it's cozy. The living room is quite large, with a big window looking at the street below, nothing but a bar separating it from the kitchen. There's no dining room, but there _is_ a small guess bedroom, one that Sark obviously wasn't thinking needed to be used as a regular bedroom any time soon. It's filled with boxes and loose papers, maps and blueprints of the state, old and new information of various spots. There's a bed inside for situations like this, but Evan and Sark had to work to get it uncovered, and work even more to make sure Evan got a clear path to the door. The bed is comfortable and whatnot, but Evan finds himself unable to get a proper nights sleep each night, constantly tossing and turning.

 

Sark himself is great, in Evan's opinion. He's a lot like the owl in the sense of loving conversing with a friend a lot of the time, but also in finding comfort in silence. When Sark isn't at work or running errands, the two just lounge together in the living room, drinking together while watching T.V or listening to music, much like him and Marcel. They do talk, of course, but a lot of their conversations somehow circle to talking about their current situation, leading to an uncomfortable Evan. He doesn't blame Sark for the awkward situation at all, and honestly, he's grateful for the other's hospitality. He just can't wait to go home.

 

Evan's phone begins ringing, the annoying song making both Evan and Sark groan. Evan reads Lui's name on the screen and accepts the call, putting the phone to his ear.

 

“Hey,” He says.

 

“ _How's it hanging, Owl Man?_ ” Lui greets from the other line.

 

Evan shrugs as if the other can see him. “As good as you'd expect. How about you? And Droid?”

 

“ _Good. It's been really quiet on this side of town. My guys say no one suspicious has been around Vinewood. Droid has been trying hard as he fuckin' can to get Marcel a new car hookup.”_

 

“ _He needs it!”_ Droid's voice comes in faintly, getting a small smile from Evan.

 

“ _I have some updates for you, too, kinda,”_ Lui says.

 

“Hit me.”

 

“ _Terroriser hasn't stopped trying to figure out where you are, but he isn't really getting anywhere. With you technically off the map, and Nogla messing with his info, he's kinda lost. Which is good and all...”_

 

“Buuuut..?” Evan asks.

 

“ _Terroriser is... kinda a baby. He throws fits when he doesn't get what he wants.”_

 

“Perfect,” Evan sighs.

 

“ _Be cool, Owl Man, we got you,”_ Lui coos on the other line. _“Nogla will let me know about anything that starts working. I'll keep in touch.”_

 

“Cool. Later.”

 

Evan drops the phone into his lap, huffing lightly. He's not liking the idea of Terroriser being angry, stomach dropping whenever he thinks of it. But he's safe. He's totally safe.

 

“Ev?” Sark asks, suddenly beside him, nudging his shoulder lightly. Evan jumps a bit and looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. “What's up?”

 

“Updates,” Evan sighs simply, sinking into the cushions. “I'm still clear.”

 

“Cool,” Sark replies, taking a drink of his beer. “Still wanna go to Vinewood for Brock?”

 

“Please,” Evan sighs. Sark nods in response, moving himself to his own room, leaving Evan alone in the living room. He's so bored without his friends, even though he's been texting all of them on a daily basis. It's never the same without them in arms reach. He gets to visit them next week, though, which is excellent. But the more he thinks about it, the further away Brock's birthday seems.

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

“I feel like I haven't seen you in forever,” Craig mumbles, giving Evan a tight hug. Evan pats his back a bit, smiling at the warm greeting.

 

“I could say the same,” He sighs, letting the other slip from his grasp. Chilled and Sark enter the Vinewood house, each carrying bags of snacks and drinks. Craig points them to the kitchen and the two continue on, unloading the goodies onto the counter. Evan glances around, waving at Marcel and Tyler, who are lounging in the living room.

 

“Hey, where's Moo?” Evan mumbles down to Craig. Craig points upwards.

 

“Room,” The lad says. “Probably napping..”

 

“I'll be back,” Evan begins up the stairs, rolling his eyes at the small snicker from the Brit.

 

Evan pokes his head into the bedroom, smiling when he sees Brock shifting under the covers. He has a few ideas of how to greet the other, but it's Brock's birthday, and he's excited to be reunited with the other. So what better way to say hello than a huge, annoying surprise?

 

Evan jumps at the edge of the bed, letting himself flop roughly on the mattress, face first next to Brock. Brock groans and shifts more, turning his back to Evan. Evan pouts, pushing his feet into the back of Brock's knees lightly, just to annoy him.

 

“Mini, I'll push you out so hard, I swear to God,” Brock grumbles deeply, shoving his face into the pillow beneath him.

 

“Didn't know I was Craig... Weird,” Evan jokes behind him. Brock doesn't respond for a moment, eventually turning towards Evan and throwing an arm around the younger, pulling the owl closer to him. Evan smiles a bit and scoots closer, pouting at Brock's face still buried in the pillow. “Lui and Droid aren't here, so I can let you sleep longer if you want.”

 

“Just let me have a second,” Brock sighs, turning his head a bit to peek at Evan. “Glad you're back.”

 

“Same,” Evan smiles to Brock.

 

“Could've woken me up a bit less annoying, though,” Brock squints at the owl.

 

“It's your birthday, old man, I gotta be annoying.”

 

“Oh, don't even _start_ with the old man shit,” Brock smiles, turning onto his side, keeping an arm draped over Evan. Evan snickers a bit.

 

“See? You're getting short tempered already. So old,” Evan jokes. Brock wiggles his fingers against Evan's ribs, getting a few giggles from the owl. “You're so mean!”

 

“Says you,” Brock smiles, resting his hand lightly on Evan's ribs. The two stay quiet, Brock's eyes closing once more as he tries to cling onto sleep for a bit longer. A loud, high pitched voice can be heard downstairs, signaling the arrival of the Vagos couple. Brock huffs a bit, slowly sitting up in the bed and stretching his arms high above his head. Evan watches him, too comfortable in his own bed to want to get out yet. The two are quiet for a few minutes, Evan's eyes following Brock around the room as the older gets ready. He suddenly remembers the date and almost has a heart attack, thinking he needs to round up money for the 1st in a few days. He quickly reminds himself of the hit, feeling both relief and fear wash over him. He really wishes he could just forget all about it.

 

“Birdies!!” The voice squeaks, footsteps hopping up the stairs. Evan looks at the door just in time to see Lui pop into frame, waving at the two. “Happy birthday, Moo!”

 

“Thank you, Lui,” Brock smiles.

 

“Yaaaaaaay, party,” Evan says, throwing both his legs in the air and wiggling his feet around. Lui and Brock snicker at the owl.

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

The day has been a great break for everyone. They've had fun all day, no one bringing any attention to the current situation, everyone just focusing on having a good time together. It's been almost exactly like Tyler's birthday “party,” the nine friends doing nothing but drinking and talking and hanging out in one big group for hours on end. It's been strangely relaxing to Evan, once he got over his paranoia of being outside, of course. Ever since the attempted car bomb assassination, Evan's been hesitant to step outside of Sark's apartment. But he trusts the crew to keep him safe, hence his attempts to continue as if his life wasn't in danger.

 

Since he's been practically glued to Sark's apartment, he hasn't seen much sunlight. He thought it would change today, but it's been overcast all day, and according to Craig, it has been overcast for weeks. Craig told Evan that he misses the sun, and in all honesty, Evan would too. But even with clouds overhead and the weather getting cooler, the group still found time to get themselves in the pool for a few hours, talking and joking together.

 

The day was meant to be centered around Brock, but somehow turned into everyone hanging out together _except_ for Brock and Evan. Near the end of the night, when a majority of the group has left the pool to go dry off and change and begin playing some games, Evan and Brock stayed glued to each other's side, sitting on the edge of the pool together with a beer in their hands. They were alone together for a long while, no one checking up on them if they've even noticed the lack of their presence. Neither of them seemed to mind, finding themselves feeling much better together after not seeing the other in person for almost two weeks.

 

They eventually moved inside, immediately being invited into the group game of Mario Party. They play a few games, switching out players every time, until the nine separate, too tired and drunk to continue playing any of the games they have on hand. Arlan and Lui once again keep Marcel company on his air mattress in the heist room, the two on either side of Marcel, Sark and Chilled on the couch, Tyler and Craig in their own room, and Evan and Brock in their own.

 

When Evan and Brock finally make it to their room, Evan almost immediately just passes out before he gets to the bed. He sits on the edge, lazily throwing his shirt and shoes to the ground and falling face first into his pillows. He almost _dies,_ he's missed how comfortable his own bed is compared to Sark's extra one. Brock snickers beside him, laying himself next to the owl. Evan huffs into the pillow a bit, turning his head a little to look at Brock.

 

“It's like you haven't slept in forever,” Brock jokes. Evan just groans and shrugs a bit, turning on his side to face Brock.

 

“I just really wanna be here,” Evan says quietly, getting a small smile from the older.

 

“It'll be over before you know it,” Brock assures him, earning a small nod from Evan.

 

Once the two actually put effort into falling asleep, they're out fast, Brock keeping a protective arm around Evan, holding the owl close to his chest as they drift off.

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

Evan shifts uncomfortably, feeling strangely cold and somewhat upset, head beginning to pound horribly. He shifts again, opening his eyes and taking a slow look around. He notices the lack of pressure around him and turns a bit, pouting when he doesn't see Brock laying next to him. He carelessly grabs for his phone on the nightstand, whining when he doesn't find it. Slowly, he gets up, rubbing his temples in pain as he drags himself from the bedroom and down the stairs.

 

Tyler is laid out on his back on the couch, Craig curled up on his chest, the T.V on a low volume on some weird commercials. Evan rolls his eyes a bit at the two, slowly taking himself to the kitchen and almost scaring himself when he almost runs right into Brock turning the corner. Brock blinks at him, a mug of coffee in his hands, laughing a little when Evan rubs his temples again.

 

“Where's Sark and Chilled?” Evan asks him, getting a large smile from the older.

 

“Sark says since you're all clear, you can go ahead and come back. Just stay under cover still. But you're back.”

 

Evan smiles a bit, feeling a rush of relief run over him. He's safe now. Totally safe. And Brian can't tear their family apart again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Highlights: Basically Evan's been living with Sark for almost 2 weeks, Terroriser is being a big baby about not being able to track down Evan, Brock's birthday was chill, and Sark deemed Vanoss safe enough to move back into Vinewood with the same hiding precautions as before. 
> 
> ohhhh next chapter is ready and im sO EXCITED you guys have no idea /heavy breathing
> 
> sorry if things begin to seem jumpy and skippy from now on, i'm hoping everything is falling into place on paper(/screen) as it is in my head, but possibly not. no clue. none. 0. eCH


	30. What did he do to you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I SWEAR I PROMISE THISLL BE THE LAST CHAPTER FOR A FEW DAYS JFC
> 
> soooo, this chapter REALLY goes from 0 to 100 in a fucking doorslam, so be prepared to have ur fuckin sOCKS blown off by my horrible writing and ideas omg im so sorry. also, im really hesitant to upload this chapter. why? no clue. just still really nervous of what you guys are gonna think of how this story plays out. send help please
> 
> also how tf did this fanfiction get to 30 chapters holy crap thats a little ridiculous 
> 
> there's blood and some protective tyler in this chapter, along with some nifty anxiety, so watch for thooooooooose. 
> 
> ill see you guys in the end note, and as always, i hope ye enjoy C:

“You're just gonna leave me all alone? You like Craig more than me.”

 

“I'll literally stab you in the neck.”

 

Evan snickers, laughing more when Brock tosses a shirt to the owl and hits him right in the face. Brock smiles a bit, slipping his feet into a pair of shoes. Evan stands and turns to the window, pulling the curtains open a bit to get a look outside. Since the first day of December, it's been constantly overcast, snowing lightly off and on, resulting in an almost permanent thin layer of snow on the city. It's amazing, but Evan hasn't gone venturing much, trying his best to keep himself safe inside. He's done good with staying inside, but he's been so tempted to go out for the past two weeks that he's had to sit near the pool and stare down at the city a few times. He hates Los Santos, but he hates it considerably less when it's covered in snow.

 

Brock steps close behind the owl, leaning forward to rest his chin on Evan's shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist lightly. Evan feels his cheeks begin to burn, leaning back against Brock's chest. The two stay still for a few moments, staring at the snow outside, neither of them particularly wanting to separate yet. Slowly, Brock slides his arm from around Evan, grabbing his phone from the bed and shoving it into his pocket. Evan looks over his shoulder at the older, watching Brock limp towards the bedroom door.

 

“Please wear a jacket,” Evan tells him.

 

Brock waves him off a bit, smiling warmly at the other as he leaves. He checks the time on his phone, raising an eyebrow when he notices Craig isn't getting off work for another couple of hours. He huffs a bit, dragging himself downstairs, somewhat excited when he sees Brock hasn't left yet. Brock gives him a big smile, and Evan returns it, moving into the living room with Brock, waving at Tyler in the dining room.

 

“I thought you left,” Evan tells him. Brock shakes his head.

 

“You know I don't like leaving unless I give a proper goodbye,” Brock smiles. Evan just rolls his eyes a bit, getting a few pokes in the side from the older.

 

“Jesus Christ, just date already,” Tyler groans from the table. Brock and Evan laugh a bit at him, Evan avoiding looking up at Brock. “By the way, Evan, I made your family outside.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Evan raises an eyebrow.

 

“Go look.”

 

Evan cautiously moves to the huge glass door, peeking outside onto the large patio covered in snow. There are multiple poorly constructed snowmen scattered about, none of them even reaching a foot tall. Evan facepalms, turning to the snickering pair behind him.

 

“What?? It's like a perfect representation of them!” Wildcat jokes.

 

“My family is a horde of tiny snowmen?” Evan smiles.

 

“Isn't that what all Canadians are?”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Evan laughs a bit.

 

Once the laughter between the three dies down, Brock huffs, pulling Evan into a small hug.

 

“I'll be back,” He tells the two.

 

“Why are you leaving early?” Evan pouts.

 

“I'm just gonna stop by a few places before I go and pick up _someone's_ boyfriend.” Brock shoots a playful glare at Tyler. Wildcat just stares back, rolling his eyes a bit. “I'll be back.”

 

Brock leaves the two, his company soon being replaced by Marcel. He walks into the living room, crutches for once not glued to his sides, leg no longer covered in the bulky cast. Tyler whistles a bit and Marcel smiles smugly, giving the two a little twirl.

 

“Like what you see?” He asks the two, getting joking nods. “Just got back from getting it off. I still have to be careful, but it healed really fucking good.”

 

“Congrats, man,” Evan tells him, watching Marcel stretch and move around the living room. His eyes fall to the patio and he snickers.

 

“Evan, your people are outside,” Marcel tells him, referring to the snowmen. Tyler begins laughing hysterically, and Evan just groans, getting laughs from Marcel as well.

 

“EVAN,” Tyler suddenly yells, and Evan jumps a bit, staring at the other in the dining room. “WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU AND BROCK JUST TOUCHING TIPS AND NOT DATING?”

 

“ _Why_ are you still caught up on that?” Evan throws back, feeling like he's being put on the spot on a subject he's not to particularly fond of talking about publicly. Tyler drops his jaw, staring at Evan is almost disbelief.

 

“Dude, _all of us are caught up on it._ You two are just fucking dancing around each other like fucking middleschoolers and its so God damned obvious.”

 

Evan pauses for a second, trying to come up with an excuse. “We don't want to.”

 

“That's a straight up lie, so hard man,” Marcel rolls his eyes. “Brock wants to date you so hard. He can't hide it if he tried.”

 

“He hasn't even tried, he's fucking told us,” Tyler adds. “So what's your deal?”

 

“It's complicated, seriously,” Evan sighs, trying his best to get the conversation to end. Neither of them are easy to shake, though, and they're persistent.

 

“How?” Marcel asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Evan groans a bit, rubbing his face in aggravation.

 

“Stuff, okay?”

 

“Stuff??”

 

“Yes, stuff!”

 

“What stuff??”

 

“I'm not gonna live that long so what's the point??” Evan snaps at the two, immediately shrinking back a bit. Marcel and Tyler just watch Evan, the two looking almost upset. They're silent, Evan feeling like he wants to puke.

 

The reason is true. Evan wants to try with Brock desperately. Evan wants that next level of comfort and friendship with the older. He _wants_ to be Brock's. But with a huge hit on his head, forcing him to worry about each step he takes and hide himself inside, it just... Won't work. What if his relationship with Brock is somehow better than he ever imagined, the best he's ever had, and suddenly, he's dead? Or maybe even opposite. His relationship with Brock turns out to be horrible, and he dies knowing that the thing he wanted most at the time was never even worth it. There's no winning anymore.

 

“Is that seriously how you feel?” Tyler asks him, almost sounding sad. Evan just runs his hands through his hair, feeling even more like he's about to throw up. Tyler looks away from Evan, shoulders slumping a bit.

 

“We got you, Evan,” Marcel shrugs a bit. “You're just fi--”

 

“Stop saying that!” Evan yelps to him. Marcel rolls his eyes, and Evan just turns away from the two, running his fingers through his hair once more. “I'm so sick of you guys telling me that. I'm done with pretending I'm safe. You guys are just lying to my fucking face. I'm not 'fine' or anything. You guys have no idea whether I'm alright or not and you guys know it, you're just.... Trying to be a good crew.... And I appreciate it..”

 

“We're sorry, Evan,” Tyler quietly says. “Honestly?... You're right. But...”

 

“We're trying..” Marcel finishes. Evan nods a little to the two, choosing not to look at either of them. “Sorry for bringing it up.”

 

“Don't tell Brock?” Tyler asks. Evan looks over his shoulder at the two, nodding a little.

 

“Don't tell Brock.”

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

Since Evan's little outburst a few hours before, he's hid himself in the bedroom, choosing not to try and talk with the others in fear of an awkward situation. He was hoping that having time to himself would slowly make him feel better, but it never did.

 

To add to his fears and mood, neither Brock nor Craig have answered his texts in over half an hour. Usually, that isn't a problem. But the two should've already been home by now, and Evan's beginning to get an uneasy feeling. He slowly drags himself out of bed, heading downstairs to look for Tyler.

 

Almost the second his foot touches the last step, the front door flings open and Craig appears, completely out of breath. There's a noticeable gash on his cheekbone, the area swelling and beginning to bruise, and he looks generally _awful._ Evan's heart drops and he rushes to Craig, catching the lad as he stumbles into Evan. The owl glances outside and almost pukes, seeing Brock no where in sight.

 

“Tyler!!” Evan yells into the house, kicking the door closed and guiding Craig to the dining room. “Tyler, Marcel help me out!”

 

He sits Craig down in one of the chairs, listening to the loud footsteps rushing down the stairs. Tyler appears, and the second his eyes land on the bruise on Craig's cheek, he tenses up, rushing straight over to him and beginning to help Craig out of his jacket.

 

“What the _fuck_ happened?” Tyler asks him sternly, taking the lad's chin lightly between his thumb and index finger and tilting Craig's head up, getting a good look at his cheek. Craig only whimpers a bit, tears beginning to fall from his eyes, and he tries to shake his head out of Tyler's grasp.

 

“Evan I'm so sorry,” Craig sobs, freezing Evan in his tracks. “I tried so hard..!”

 

“Baby, calm down,” Tyler tries to soothe him, accepting the damp cloth and bag of ice from Evan. He tries to pat some of the drying blood from Craig's cheek, but Craig tries to pull away again, raising a shaky hand to try and get Tyler's hand away.

 

“Lui called me, and.. He was like... Yelling at me to get the fuck away from Ponsonby's... And Brock was already there....” Craig hiccups between his sobs. “He tried to warn me and I couldn't help him!”

 

“Craig, stop!” Tyler orders, grabbing onto Mini's wrist. Craig hiccups again and buries his face into Tyler's arm, doing his best to avoid putting pressure on his cheek. Evan and Tyler share horrified looks with one another, Evan feeling a panic dropping in his stomach. Something bad happened. Something _very_ bad happened, and until Craig calms down enough to form actual sentences, the two are completely lost.

 

Tyler puts his hand underneath Craig's chin, gently pulling the lad's head up to begin cleaning his face again. Craig tries to pull away, but eventually gives up, his sobs and hiccups slowly fading into steady, deep breaths. His cheek has swollen enough to almost force his left eye closed, turning his face multiple shades of purples and reds and yellows, his nose and eyes red from crying. Once he's calmed down and the blood has been wiped from his cheek, Tyler puts his hands on either side of Craig's head, leaning down giving him a gentle kiss to the forehead before pressing his own forehead to Craig's.

 

“What happened, Craig?” Tyler asks quietly. Craig closes his eyes tight, his free hand wrapping around one of Tyler's.

 

“Lui called me.. He told me that Nogla was freaking out about how Terroriser knew where Brock and I were, and they were coming... So we were leaving, but...” Craig whimpers a bit and shakes his head. “We even _knew_ they were coming, and we got got... They have Brock, Evan... Jonathan has Brock... I'm really sorry, Evan..”

 

Evan's heart practically stops, and he just stares at the lad. Terroriser used Delirious to get Brock and _succeeded,_ and they even hurt Craig to do it. Every singe article and news story about missing lawyers and other gang members eventually being found in a brutal scenario, put there by the hands of Brian, comes to mind. Evan can't even think straight, he's too terrified to focus on just one thing. Tyler nods slowly, stroking Craig's uninjured cheekbone with his thumb softly.

 

“Who did that?” Tyler asks, gesturing to the injury. Craig bites his lip nervously, glancing up at Evan.

 

“Jonathan..” Craig says quietly. “There were others there... I think two.. I don't remember what they look like.”

 

“Evan..?” Tyler asks, noticing the look of both horror and sadness on the other's face. Evan only shakes his head a bit, patting Craig lightly on the shoulder.

 

“I'm glad you're okay,” The owl says to Craig, deciding he needs to leave quickly before he throws up all over the dining room.

 

Evan rushes upstairs, quickly closing himself in his bedroom and snatching his phone from the nightstand. His breath is getting heavy, legs shaking unstably underneath him, and there's panic clawing it's way from the pit of Evan's stomach to the rest of his body. He tries to focus on something to calm him down, but all he finds himself thinking is _“Please don't kill him”._

 

He dials Terroriser's number with his violently shaking fingers, holding the phone close to his ear. He lowers himself to the floor at the foot of the bed as he listens to the rings, slowly pulling his knees close to his chest. The rings only continue, and eventually, he hears a loud beep, along with an automated voice. He quickly hangs up, his anxiety screaming at him about how Terroriser isn't answering because he's so wrapped up in having a solo discussion on how he's going to get rid of Brock that he doesn't need his phone near him. Or he's too busy watching Jonathan club him with his bat to hear the ringtone. Evan's stomach churns horribly at all the thoughts that run through his mind and he suddenly can't breathe, tears streaming down Evan's cheeks, small, choked sobs escaping his lips every few moments.

 

He dials Terroriser another couple of times, each time he's able to compose himself long enough to at least sound like he's perfectly fine, but he never gets an answer. Evan even tries for Brock's cellphone, but it goes straight to voicemail. He drops his phone to the floor, pressing his forehead into his knees to hide his sobbing face. His fingers grab at the carpet tightly, his anxiety only getting worse, and he just sits there. Sobbing.

 

He's not sure how long he's alone before he feels light hands on his arms, thumbs giving his skin tiny pats. His heart skips a beat and his head shoots up, expecting to see Brock kneeling in front of him. Instead, Droid is there, face drowned in worry as he studies Vanoss' face. Evan's ears are ringing loudly, the ringing slowly fading to the point of him being able to hear other voices from down the stairs.

 

“Please come with me,” Arlan says quietly, trying to coax Evan to his feet. Evan slowly gets up, doing his best to rid his face of the massive amounts of tears. He's so tired now, his anxiety completely draining him of all energy, and he almost stumbles when he takes his first step.

 

“--don't think telling him that is a particularly good idea!”

 

“Telling who what?” Evan asks when he reaches the dining room with Droid, interrupting Craig's conversation. Marcel, Lui, Tyler, and Craig turn towards the pair, all four freezing, silently exchanging glances with one another.

 

“Nogla called me and told me Terroriser sent a few guys out here to get Craig from Ponsonby's, kidnap him, all that jazz, because he's the only crew member that they for sure know would be there... But when they noticed Brock was with him, Terroriser switched gears and went for Brock instead,” Lui cautiously tells him. “I called Craig because I thought I could warn him in time, but......”

 

Evan slowly nods, running his hands though his hair. Craig turns his head away from the group, shrinking himself to fit better underneath Tyler's protective arm. Evan feels like he wants to cry all over again, stomach beginning to flip.

 

“Why would he switch from Craig to Brock?” Marcel asks, only getting shrugs and head shakes from the rest of them.

 

“I need to talk to Terroriser,” Evan whimpers, turning back to the stairs.

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

It's nearly noon of the next day, and Evan's beginning to lose hope. Lui and Droid have been in the house, trying to come up with ideas or just generally comfort the crew, but they find it nearly impossible with how upset this kidnapping has made them.

 

Evan's cried so much his head feels like it's going to explode, and he can't function properly. He's closed himself off from the rest of the group, sitting with his back to the wall and knees to his chest, phone on the floor next to him. He's been there for a while, even falling asleep at one point, curled up on the floor. Not once does he climb in the bed, too afraid of how uncomfortable it will be without Brock.

 

Evan's awake now, though, still too caught up waiting for some sort of call to actually get decent sleep. He feels awful, both physically and mentally, and all he wants to do right now is make sure Brock is alive.

 

He checks his phone, frowning when it's void of any notifications, shoving it into his jacket pocket. Evan lazily drags himself to his feet, slowly and quietly making his way downstairs. The house is completely quiet, and there's a tiny puff of smoke outside, grabbing Evan's attention. He opens the glass door and is greeted by Lui, curled under his jacket in one of the patio chairs, cigarette between his lips. Evan joins him, sitting beside him and pulling his jacket tighter around him.

 

“Want one?” Lui asks, holding his pack of Redwoods to Evan. Evan thinks for a moment before taking the carton from Lui. “You look like shit.”

 

“Thanks,” Evan huffs, lighting the cigarette between his lips. Lui pouts a bit, watching Evan take a drag from the cigarette. “Have you heard from Nogla?”

 

“Not yet,” Lui replies. “But he'll come through..”

 

Evan doesn't respond, instead pulling his feet into the chair under him to try and make himself into some sort of warm ball. The sky is covered in clouds, and there's a thin layer of snow covering just about every inch of the patio. It's probably too cold for the two to stay out much longer, but neither of them move, smoking on their Redwoods until they're gone.

 

“I'm going inside, you should come with,” Lui says, standing on his feet. Evan nods, teeth faintly chattering together as he shivers lightly. They slip inside, Evan shivering at the warmer temperature inside. Craig and Tyler are on the couch this time, Mini curled up in Tyler's arms. The couple wave at the two, and Lui waves back, and they turn their attention back to the T.V.

 

Evan opens his mouth to say something, but instead of his voice, a loud, annoying ring sounds from his pocket, and everyone freezes. He quickly fishes his phone from his pocket, stomach dropping at the name flashing across his screen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 0 TO MOTHER FUCKING 100 BRUH
> 
> next chapter will have a bit of action and stuff because i cant just chill for a hot second, hopefully you guys will like it ;o;
> 
> also!!! i ended up adding a few things to my storyline because i thought they would be either exciting or heartbreaking or some weird mixture of both, so there's a few chapters extra before the end , which means the end is a bit further than i thought????? i'm gonna say that its gonna end at like 45 chapters thats my estimate lmao


	31. Yoink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting this chapter a bit earlier than intended because i'm not gonna have internet in a few hours,,,,,,,
> 
> so this chapter is probably a bit weird, probably rushed, blahblahblah its a sTRANGE CHAPTER. but i mean this is a strange fanfiction so lmao oh well. at least theres some adorableness near the end? also, yESSS NOGLA IS HERE AND I'M SO EXCITED HE IS. there's also some anxious and snappy evan in this chapter because unstable evan is the best evan (am i too mean to the characters??,,,,,, naaaaaah)
> 
> i'll see you guys in the end note, and as always, i hope ye enjoy :3

Evan runs upstairs with his phone in his hand, closing himself in his room as he accepts Brian's call.

 

“Where is he?” Evan demands through the phone.

 

Terroriser chuckles from the other end. _“I_ _ **knew**_ _switching targets was a fantastic idea.”_

 

“I'm not fucking playing games!” Evan snaps.

 

“ _You think I am??”_ Terroriser snaps right back.

 

“Is he alive?”

 

“ _Maybe,”_ Brian coos.

 

Evan closes his eyes tight, running his fingers through his tangled hair. “What's your fucking deal? Why did you attack my crew?”

 

“ _You **escaped** a carbomb by accident, then completely disappear off the fucking radar! I can't seem to get workers competent enough to fucking track you down, and we couldn't properly follow your little lad home. I had to do **something** to get you to show yourself.” _ Evan's grip on his cellphone tightens a bit in anger as he listens to the other, biting his tongue. _“And what do you know? You came out almost immediately.”_

 

“What the fuck do you want?” Evan growls through his teeth.

 

“ _I want to have you kneeling in front of me so I can put a bullet through your skull and throw you in the lake,”_ Brian replies coldly, Evan's breath catching in his throat. _“You've gotten away too many times, and it's not very nice. So, your choice right now, Evan. You, or him. Easy as that.”_

 

Evan slowly lowers himself to the edge of the bed, hiding his face in his free hand. His head hurts, heart beating quickly. _Him or Brock._

 

He takes in a slow breath, saying, “I'll give myself up.”

 

“ _How loyal of you,”_ Terroriser coos on the other end, grin obvious in his voice. _“Tomorrow night, huh? I'll give you more details later.”_

 

“Let me talk to him,” Evan orders into the phone.

 

“ _Why should I?”_

 

“I want to make sure he's actually alive.”

 

There's a moment of silence before Brian makes a small sound of agreement, then the line goes completely silent. Evan holds his breath, and his heart jumps when he hears a voice come through.

 

“ _Ev?”_ Brock asks.

 

“Hey,” Evan says quietly, gripping his hair lightly in his free hand. “Are you hurt?”

 

“ _Not too bad,”_ Brock responds. _“Evan, you can't just give yourself up like this-”_

 

“Stop,” Evan cuts him off. “Just let me fucking do this for you. It was bound to happen already. So just... Let it happen, okay?”

 

“ _No,”_ Brock says.

 

“Brock, I really don't want to be the last talk we have a fucking fight, okay?” Evan sighs, gripping his hair even tighter as tears begin to fill his eyes. Brock stays silent, a small huff from his end.

 

“ _I'll see you tomorrow...”_

 

“Bye, Brock.” He hangs up, letting his phone slide from his hand to the floor. He's officially dead, and this time, he isn't scared. He isn't worried about what might be on the other side, he isn't worried about what will happen if nothing special comes from dying. He doesn't feel hesitant to give in anymore, and he isn't sure whether to be frightened by his change of mind, or happy.

 

Suddenly, he's drowned by the thoughts of never seeing his friends again. Never being able to visit Canada again. Never being able to watch another sequel to that horrible Man-Helicopter mutant franchise with his friends. Tears stream down his cheeks and he slides off the bed, curling up at the foot of his bed. His head is pounding, heart almost literally aching, and he wants to puke all over again. This is so completely fucked, and he's still waiting for himself to wake up from this complete nightmare.

 

There's a faint knock on his door, and he ignores it, looking up when he hears the door slowly open. Craig's bruised face pokes inside, frown tugging heavily at his lips when his eyes land on Evan. He slowly steps inside, closing the door behind him before taking a few steps towards the owl.

 

“What happened?” He asks quietly. Evan slowly sits up, running a hand through his hair.

 

“You guys are getting Brock back,” He replies in a weak voice. Craig smiles, but his face quickly turns to confused, raising an eyebrow at the other.

 

“Why do you say it like that?” Craig asks cautiously. Evan doesn't respond, instead turning away from the lad. His shoulders fall as the gears in his head turn, jaw dropping a bit. “Evan...”

 

“Me or him,” He sighs.

 

Craig shakes his head, crossing his arms tight across his chest. “What else do you expect me to do?” Evan asks.

 

“Not give up so quickly..!” Craig yelps.

 

“'Give up'?? I'm not fucking giving up!” Evan snaps up to the lad, Mini shrinking back a bit. “I'm trying to keep everyone alive. I'm taking care of everyone. I'd say I'm doing pretty damn well.”

 

“But you aren't even _trying_ to think about getting him out of there _without_ dying! Evan, you broke someone out of jail flawlessly and got away with it! You should _know_ you can do this!”

 

“I'm not risking getting us killed, Craig, stop!” Evan yelps. “It's not gonna happen any other way, I'm not going to try. This isn't up for fucking debate.”

 

Craig just stares down at him, face mixed with several emotions. Evan turns his head away, taking deep breaths to try and ward off the tears threatening to fall again. There's a small shuffle, and he glances at the door again, and Mini is no where to be seen. He feels awful, slowly rising to his feet and moving to the door to close it. There are loud footsteps coming up the stairs, and Lui appears, pushing himself into the bedroom. Evan stumbles a bit, squinting at the other.

 

“You aren't going,” Lui turns to him. Evan groans, running his hands through his hair.

 

“I'm not changing my mind,” Evan tells him.

 

“Yes, you are.” Lui holds his phone up in his hand, getting a questioning glare from the owl. “Nogla has a plan.”

 

“Nogla is going to get Brock killed,” Evan grumbles.

 

“No, he won't. Nogla is out best bet. He knows how these fuckers work.”

 

Evan only shakes his head, Lui groaning loudly in response. “I'm not risking his death, Lui!”

 

“He'll be fine!”

 

“No.”

 

“Tonight, everyone's drunk and asleep, and they aren't paying attention-” Lui begins, and Evan runs his hands through his hair, pacing the room. “He can get Brock out and bring him to us on a silver fucking platter! Safe!”

 

“How do you know he'll be safe??” Evan snaps.

 

“Because I _trust_ him,” Lui spits, crossing his arms over his chest. “Evan, this is going to work. Nogla is a lot more badass than he gives off. He can get him out with no damage. He knows how they work, okay?” Evan paces a bit again, but Lui grabs onto his arm lightly. “He can bring Brock to the race track, okay? We can all be there, waiting for him. I _promise_ you, Evan, you two will be alive at the end of tonight. Please, let this happen.”

 

Evan thinks for a moment, nervously rubbing his hands together. “What's his plan..?”

 

“Dead night, like 2 in the morning, he's gonna find a clearing and lead Brock out, drive him down to the racetrack and turn him over, and go back like nothing ever happened.”

 

“How will Terroriser react?”

 

Lui only shakes his head. “Couldn't tell you.”

 

“I want him out safely,” Evan mumbles.

 

“Trust me.”

 

“I'm coming with to pick him up.”

 

“Totally,” Lui replies. “Thank you for changing your mind, owl man.”

 

“Careful, or I might change it back,” Evan warns, sharing a small fistbump with the older. “Tell the others, but no one else is coming. We don't need a lot of attention on this.”

 

With that, Lui leaves, and Evan's alone again, so many thoughts and feelings screaming in his head. He's in pain, even though he should be feeling better. He could be getting Brock back tonight, he should be happy. But he knows something is bound to go wrong, and he just hopes everyone will get out alive.

 

The Crew and the Vagos couple end up in a group together in the dining room, having a discussion together about who's going and who isn't, the pros and cons of the mission, etc. Overall, they were happy with how this could turn out, and it's decided that Evan, Lui, Droid, and Sark are going to be the ones to pick Brock up. No one argues, instead just agreeing, and the Vagos head home, getting themselves ready for tonight. The crew is then alone, sitting silent with each other, feeling completely incomplete with their missing member. They want Brock back. They _need_ Brock back.

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

“ _We have to go, now! Everyone!”_

 

“Droid, what are you talking about??” Evan barks through the phone, glancing at the time. _12:34 a.m._

 

“ _Terroriser found out about Nogla, and they're being hunted. Sark should be around the corner. We need everyone, locked and loaded. It's going to be loud, Vanoss.”_

 

Evan's stomach drops as he quickly gestures Tyler and Marcel to the heist room, the two slowly making their way there in confusion. “What do you mean he 'Knows about Nogla'?”

 

“ _He knows about Nogla and Vagos, about the plan. They're gonna be killed if they don't get help soon, Vanoss.”_

 

“Fuck.. _Fuck!_ We'll be by soon, just.... Make sure Nogla has Brock _safe!”_

 

Evan hangs up the phone, moving to he heist room where Tyler and Marcel are dressing themselves up. He snatches his Jacket and mask, slipping them both on. Marcel opens one of the still packed boxes, pulling out an expensive looking coat, brown fur lining the collar.

 

“What's happening?” Tyler asks, mask in hand, a thick white coat on his shoulders.

 

“Apparently, Terroriser is aware of Nogla and Brock. We need to get them, _now.”_

 

The three leave the heist room, greeted by Sark inviting himself inside, quickly moving across the house.

 

“Showtime,” Sark tells the three.

 

“We'll be back,” Tyler mumbles to Craig, who has been standing off to the side and watching the crew get ready. He presses a light kiss to Mini's lips, and Craig pouts, looking between the four.

 

“Please be safe,” He requests, and the four nod a bit, Marcel shifting the heavy bag of weapons and ammunition on his shoulder. Sark and Marcel head out, and Evan glances back at the couple, watching as Tyler presses yet another kiss to Craig's skin, this time on his uninjured cheekbone. Wildcat leans back, putting his mask on his head, and Craig only watches him nervously, waving slightly to Evan.

 

“I'm taking my car,” Evan tells Tyler once the other reaches him, the two heading into the snow. Tyler nods a bit, hopping into Sark's SUV. Sark opens his door a bit when Evan appears on the other side, repeating the same words he's told Tyler.

 

“Drive safe,” Sark warns. “We'll meet you at the racetrack. Lui and Droid are waiting.”

 

The SUV pulls away as the garage door opens, Vanoss rushing into his car and pulling away as quickly as the snow will allow. It's not supposed to happen like this. It was supposed to be _perfect,_ but Evan's beginning to feel like this was a huge mistake.

 

The racetrack is dark and quiet, the only lights being various emergency lights, and the lights of two large vehicles parked next to each other. Evan pulls next to them, finding one of them containing Sark and his crew, the second vehicle being a large, black Insurgent, Lui and Droid leaning from the doors. Once Evan stops, Marcel and Tyler flood from the SUV, hopping into the back of the Insurgent. Lui climbs out of the vehicle, moving to Evan's window as the owl rolls said window down.

 

“Just follow us, Owl Man,” Lui says from behind his Pogo mask. “We'll be there quick.”

 

Droid appears behind Lui, handing Evan a shotgun through the window. Evan accepts it and nods in appreciation, placing it in the passenger seat.

 

“How far?” Evan asks.

 

“Nogla says he made it to an abandoned farmhouse near Senora Freeway. Maybe 15 minutes down. Terroriser and his boys are closing in quick, though,” Droid replies.

 

“Brock?”

 

“By his side,” Lui tells him.

 

“Lead the way.”

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

The drive is silent, the highway nearly empty, and Evan can't think correctly. He's terrified for everyone's well being, especially Brock, seeing as how he's trapped with a stranger in a house, being hunted down by a psychopath and his little henchmen. He keeps his eyes on the Insurgent ahead of him, both vehicles speeding faster than any of the stray vehicles driving with them, but still being wary of the slick roads.

 

Nothing seems longer than the short drive there, but once they pull off of the highway and onto dirt roads and completely open space, Evan hypes himself up. The land is flat and almost completely void of trees and structures, but there's one large house that catches his eye, barely visible in the pitch darkness. There are other vehicles, all heading towards the same building but from the opposite side, and Evan grips the steering wheel tight in his hands. This isn't right, he knows it. Something bad is going to happen.

 

The closer the two vehicles get, the more noticeable the sound of gunshots. Pings begin echoing through his car and he shrinks a bit, reaching over to take a hold of the shotgun next to him.

 

The Insurgent begins lighting up as it gets closer, bullets raining down on the hostile vehicles as they circle. Evan knows he isn't able to help much in the vehicle he's in, so he pulls around to the opposite side of the house, the pings and dings of bullets hitting metal ending. His phone begins ringing loudly in his pocket and he quickly checks it, answering it when he reads Droid's name across the screen.

 

“ _Nogla and Brock are gonna come out the back!”_ Droid yells over the gunfire. _“We're gonna meet you back there, alright?”_

 

“I'm already here,” Evan responds, pulling the car around the next corner and towards the back porch. The Insurgent speeds around the corner as well, bringing a small trail of men along, all doing their best to shoot through any opening they can, but to no avail. The large truck does a good job of covering a majority of the porch from the gunfire, Evan included, and the owl climbs from the vehicle, phone on speaker in one hand and shotgun in the other.

 

There's a few shuffles behind him and he turns quickly, pointing the shotgun straight at the figure. He notices the fur coat and freezes, eyes moving to the man's face, his own face going completely pale. It's Terroriser who's standing there, a rifle in his own hand, pointed at the ground. Neither of them move, staring each other down, and a large, horrifying, toothy grin appears on Brian's face.

 

“Do it,” Terroriser taunts, gesturing towards Evan's shotgun. Evan only stares at him, completely paralyzed, his mind screaming at him to do _something._ But he's completely useless, slowly lowering his arm, taking a baby step back from the Blond. Terroriser's smile grows even wider, even darker, and he tells him, “I'll be sure to see you soon, Cockroach.” With that, he turns and moves around the corner, completely disappearing.

 

Evan suddenly snaps out of it, growling through his teeth as he notices Droid practically screaming his name through the phone.

 

“I'm here!” Evan yells to him, turning towards the Porch. There's a man near the back of the vehicle, slamming the door closed, grabbing the gun from the ground next to him and sprinting to Evan.

 

“ _Meet Nogla, he's riding with you. Split up, we're going to the racetracks again!”_

 

Evan watches Nogla, climbing into the car with him. The Insurgent pulls off quickly, and Evan follows with a loud squeal of his tires, glancing at the person next to him.

 

“Where's Brock?” He asks.

 

“He's in the big van with yer buddies!” Nogla replies under the paper bag, jumping when the passenger's side window is shattered by a bullet. Evan jumps as well, swerving just a tad, but he keeps them going towards Senora, taking multiple different roads and routes until the vehicles and gunfire disappear. “I think we lost 'em..”

 

“My fuckin' window,” Evan huffs, staring at the shattered glass across the floorboard. Nogla rips the paper bag from his head, throwing it out the window and watching it fly in the side mirror.

 

“Yea, I'm fine, by the way, thanks for ye concern,” Nogla directs to Evan.

 

“I didn't ask,” Evan tells him, getting them to the freeway. “I appreciate your help, but you're still on the edge of my trust, _Daithi.”_

 

“Cold,” Nogla gasps. Evan shrinks back a bit, Insurgent no where to be seen, and his heart is beating loud. He never saw Brock the entire time. He has no idea if he's even alive. All he knows is the man beside him claims that Brock is with the others. He _prays,_ prays for Brock to be at that Racetrack. He _needs_ Brock to be there with him. He needs to see him, smiling bright at the crew, as if nothing had ever happened.

 

“Why did you help us, exactly?” Evan asks.

 

“With yer friend?”

 

“Duh.”

 

“Terroriser's mean, dude!” The man says. “He was... Mistreatin' him, ya know? Been mistreatin' everyone..”

 

Evan stays silent, focusing on careful driving. Nogla shifts uncomfortably, brushing some of the glass from his lap and to the floorboard.

 

“Are Lui 'nd Droid gonna be there?” Nogla asks after a few minutes of silence. Evan nods a bit, giving a small smile at the tiny “yes!” that comes from Nogla's mouth.

 

They finally, _finally_ get to the Racetrack, Evan's heart stopping when he sees the Insurgent parked in some grass, various members crowded around the back of the vehicle. Nogla is almost bouncing with excitement when they pull up, jumping out of the car the second Evan stops. Evan follows after turning off the car, watching as Nogla rushes to Lui and Droid, sharing a huge hug with the two. Lui ruffles his hand through Nogla's hair, tangling the strands, and Droid laughs at the two, smiling softly at Evan.

 

Evan only looks to the Insurgent, heart beating rapidly at he stares at Tyler and Marcel talking to a person in the back seat, hidden behind the open door so Evan can't see. He hears his mind screaming _Please be Brock, please be alive,_ over and over as he slowly moves towards the two.

 

He gets to where he can see who the two are talking to, and he almost faints with how relieved he is.

 

Brock is sitting, talking with the two, a small smile across his face. He looks tired, coat and blanket wrapped tight around him so Evan can't see any of his skin to check for damage. Other than that, Brock looks _perfect,_ looking like he's acting as if nothing just happened. Evan can only stare, feeling a wash of happiness run over him because _holy shit they got him back._ They got him back, and no one important had to die. The family is together once again, and Evan could cry with how excited he is.

 

Marcel notices Evan and subtly grabs Tyler's attention, head darting to the Vagos laughing and joking with Nogla. “Yo, we should go meet Nogla... Now.”

 

“Totally,” Tyler agrees quickly, the two leaving Evan and Brock alone.

 

Evan takes a step forward, sighing happily when Brock drops the blanket from his shoulders and holds his arms out for the younger. He quickly fits himself against Brock's chest, arms tightly wrapped around Brock's neck, shoving his face into Brock's shoulder. Brock's muscles tense up, but he pulls Evan even closer, tangling his fingers in the owl's hair. Evan's eyes fill with tears as the two hold onto each other, neither of them saying a word to each other. He's having so many emotions that he doesn't know which to listen to, only choosing to focus on the friend in his arms. He's back.

 

_He's back._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY STRAIGHT UP TELLING YOU GUYS NEXT CHAPTER IS PURE GAY AND PURE FILLER BUT IT'S A GOOD FILLER SO BARE WITH ME
> 
> chapters might slow down in a hot second because I'm gonna be doing a few more projects over the next few days so hopefully you guys won't mind. i'm going to do my best to keep /some/ sort of schedule, but just know that if i don't update in a few days, i havent forgotten about this fic. i just have so many ideas that i can't not work on so i may just get extremely distracted lmaooooooooo
> 
> you guys are hella, stay safe, ily and ill see you guys in the next <3


	32. Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its finally happeningggggggggg
> 
> this is slightly a filler chapter, but i think a lot of you friggin nerds are gonna like it lmao. no warnings, other than shit gets REALLY GAY
> 
> so gay
> 
> this chapter pretty much begins the same night last chapter ended, but the crew is back at their house now. also there's a random time skip like mid chapter, and that time skip is about a week. heads up.
> 
> ill see you in the end, and as always, i hope ye enjoy :3

“You could've told me sooner it was hurt, maybe I wouldn't have fucking smashed my face into it,” Evan huffs, crawling onto the bed with a bag of ice in his hands, watching as Brock pulls his shirt from his body with a pained groan and throw it to the floor. Brock just flashes a small smile back at the owl, slowly lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed. Evan scoots closer, frowning at the swollen, dark bruised skin on Brock's collarbone and shoulder.

 

“It didn't matter at the time,” Brock huffs, reaching for the baggie. Evan keeps it away, swatting at Brock's hand, pressing the bag of ice very gently to the older's shoulder. Brock tenses up a bit, wincing at the small touch, an arm casually draping over Evan's lap.

 

“What happened?” Evan asks quietly, examining the injury. Brock groans and rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

 

“Jonathan is a bitch,” He spits, frowning when Evan physically shivers with fear. “It's okay, Evan. He didn't do anything bad.”

 

“He always does something bad,” Evan mumbles, leaning closer to Brock and pressing his nose into his neck.

 

Evan holds the ice to Brock, and the two silently sit together for a few comfortable minutes, basking in the feeling of being together once again. Brock had given him an annoyed talk back at the racetrack; about how he _never_ wants Evan to just give himself up for him or anyone else ever again, about how Evan is just too good for saying goodbye to. They haven't gotten to be alone together since, so they take advantage of the feeling for a while.

 

“Brock?”

 

“Yeah?” Brock responds.

 

“Do you remember, a few months ago... We got Chinese food and watched the sunset...” Brock nods a bit. “Do you remember when you asked me if everything was worth it... And I didn't have an answer for you..?”

 

“I do,” Brock murmurs, turning his head to look at the owl next to him.

 

“I have an answer,” Evan tells him. “It wasn't worth it... _This_ isn't worth it... I drug us all into this shit because I wanted us to get money, and...”

 

Evan shrugs slowly, feeling a small flutter in his stomach when Brock pulls his legs closer, tugging Evan closer to him.

 

“I just want to quit all of this...” Evan mumbles, leaning his face away from Brock's neck so the two can look at each other easier.

 

“Well,” Brock takes a deep breath. “We could just... Run away. Leave Terroriser and crew life...”

 

Evan stares at the older, amazed that Brock of all people would suggest such a fairy tale thing. The idea seems somehow taunting, like he should just tell him that he wants to, but he just... Can't. There are too many things that could go wrong, and he frowns a bit, shifting the ice on Brock's shoulder.

 

“You know that won't work,” Evan tells him, and Brock only smiles, leaning forward to press his forehead against Evan's.

 

Evan's cheeks and ears heat up at how close the two have gotten, making no attempts to pull away. Instead, he finds himself leaning a bit closer still, tiling his head up in a small move to--

 

There's a small knock on the door, and the two jump, Evan sitting up straight and away from Brock. Brock just blinks at Evan, cheeks flushed lightly, but he doesn't say anything.

 

“Yeah?” Evan huffs, looking towards the door. Craig slips inside, staying near the door.

 

“Is it alright if I check him out?” Craig asks. The two nod and he moves closer, watching Evan scoot away with the ice.

 

“Jesus, Mini,” Brock groans, squinting at the bruise on his cheek. “He got you good...”

 

“Feels like it,” Craig huffs, poking and examining his shoulder. “I think you're gonna be fine, just hurt for a while.. For now, we should just ice it and you should probably just chill for a few days. If it just won't get better, talk to me and we can get you good care.”

 

“Thanks,” Brock huffs, whimpering a bit when he tries to roll his shoulder.

 

“I literally _just_ told you it needs to chill for a few days,” Craig laughs a bit.

 

Evan smiles a little, moving himself back and laying on his side of the bed. Craig and Brock have a few giggles together, and eventually, Craig leaves, too tired to stay up with them. Evan watches him leave and sinks into the sheets a bit, smiling when Brock glances back at him.

 

“Can you do me a favor?” Brock asks Evan. Evan nods a bit, propping himself up on his elbow. “Can we just... Pretend none of this _kidnapping_ stuff happened?”

 

Evan blinks slowly, sitting up fully. Brock turns away from Evan, running a hand through his messy hair, shoulders slumped a bit. Evan nods a bit, scooting closer to lean his head on Brock's back.

 

“I'll do my best,” He replies, smiling at the small chuckle that comes from Brock.

 

A sudden craving begins to make Evan itch and he curses himself silently, sliding himself off the bed. “Get some sleep, I'll be back in a minute.”

 

He quietly makes his way downstairs, smiling at the snores already coming from Marcel's room. He grabs his jacket from the heist room, pulling it around himself as he moves to one of the chairs on the patio. It's almost two in the morning, the only lights being the ones from the city, illuminating the clouds above, and the only sounds being various car alarms and general Los Santos sounds. He takes a Redwood from the pack on the little table next to him, lighting it between his lips and pulling his feet into the chair, knees to his chest. He never meant to make smoking a habit again, but he figures hey, he's not exactly doing crew work anymore, so why not? Besides, he's dead anyway, so what's the most that could happen?

 

He thinks about the nights events while he sits alone, staring at the snow scattered about. He thinks most about Terroriser, the awkward standoff the two had. Both of them had perfect shots. They could've ended it then. But he just... didn't. Neither of them did. Terroriser's actions don't make sense to Evan, and he begins to wonder if he actually saw Brian tonight or if it was just some weird hallucination.

 

“Gross. Again?”

 

Evan jumps at Brock's voice, turning and sighing when he sees Brock moving to sit in a chair next to him, large blanket wrapped around him. Evan turns his head away from the other, taking a small puff and blowing it the opposite direction of Brock.

 

“I thought I said go to sleep,” Evan mumbles, glancing at the other.

 

“I thought you said you quit,” Brock throws back. Evan groans a bit, giving him a small nod.

 

“Yeah,” He sighs, stubbing the cigarette out in an ashtray and tossing it to the ground. Brock just watches, turning his attention to the city. The two stay silent for a few moments, neither moving until Brock begins to shiver next to Evan. “Let's get inside. You don't need to be an icicle.”

 

“I don't get how you're just fine in that little jacket,” Brock huffs, standing with the owl and heading inside. Evan only smiles, closing the glass door behind him.

 

“Canada, dude,” Evan smiles. “I'm just used to snow. I'm also always hot.”

 

“I'll say,” Brock winks, a blush burning at Evan's face once again. Brock laughs and wraps his arms around Evan's waist, pulling the owl closer. “Did I just tickle your fancy??”

 

“N-No!” Evan stutters, slapping his hands to his cheeks to hide the embarrassing blush.

 

“Vanoss, great macho leader of Banana Bus, swooning at the tiniest little flirt. You're so soft.”

 

“Fuck you, you're soft!” Evan pouts up to Brock, letting his hands fall to Brock's chest. The older laughs a bit, holding Evan close to him, and the two fall into a comfortable silence. He stays close to Moo, patting his fingers lightly across his chest. “I'm really glad you're back..”

 

“Feels nice to be back,” Brock smiles, pressing their foreheads together once again. Evan holds his breath for a moment, tilting his head up once more to give Brock a feather-soft kiss, bracing himself in case Brock turns him down.

 

Brock, instead of pushing him away, chases his lips, pressing the two together once more, a bit firmer this time. Evan's stomach jumps at the soft feeling, his hands snaking up to wrap around Brock's neck. They're _kissing._ They're actually kissing, and Evan can't imagine anything sweeter than this moment. Evan can't help the feeling of embarrassment that looms over him, because he can't imagine how gross his lips taste with the cigarette smoke still lingering. Brock either doesn't notice, or doesn't care, only pulling the younger closer to him.

 

The sweet kiss doesn't last long, Brock slowly pulling his lips from Evan's and burying his face in the owl's neck. Evan nuzzles his nose into Brock's hair, jumping when he notices the figure standing in the living room near the main hallway.

 

“Mini??” Evan squeaks, Brock quickly turning. Mini is just staring, a huge grin across his face, hands pressed against his cheeks.

 

“I can't believe I got to see that,” Craig squeaks. “I'm so glad I wanted water.”

 

“Mini!” The two yelp in unison, getting nothing but playful cackles from the lad.

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

“How long do you think you'll be gone?” Evan asks Marcel from the couch, watching the roommate flop himself into a dining room chair.

 

“I know for sure Christmas, maybe Christmas Eve. Not too long,” Marcel shrugs. “They're still being pricks about letting me see Scotty, so it may just have to be a quick in and out. I ain't stayin' there for too long. Don't wanna start shit.”

 

“Understandable,” Evan nods, stretching his arms above his head.

 

Brock's been home for a week, and the house is completely different compared to before. Everyone is calmer, happier, laughing together more. Marcel and Evan even pranked Tyler with the classic water cup prank, filling as many plastic cups they could with water and scattering them all around Tyler and Mini's bed, forcing the other to try and ninja jump over them to chase the two around the house. It annoyed Mini to no end, and Brock only laughed at them.

 

Evan's honestly been a lot happier, but he isn't completely alright like the rest of the crew seems to be. The past few weeks have _really_ fucked with him, to the point of many restless nights and not-so-awesome dreams. He's always tired now, sometimes too tired to understand anything anyone is saying to him, at which point Brock will force him to lay down and go to bed. Evan usually does, but eventually wakes up earlier than intended with a new nightmare to think about.

 

“You're gonna leave me for Scotty?” Tyler whines as he enters the living room, getting a snort from Marcel.

 

“Duh.”

 

“Rude,” Tyler huffs.

 

“You have Craig to keep you company, dude,” Evan reminds him. Tyler huffs again, grabbing a soda from the fridge.

 

“He hates me,” Craig says, entering the living room. Tyler groans loudly, getting a few laughs from the other three. Wildcat shoots an arm out and wraps it around Craig's waist, trapping the lad against his as he presses loud, comical kisses to his neck, earning loud groans from Evan and Marcel. “Don't torture everyone!”

 

Evan huffs a bit as he listens to the three talk to each other, looking at Craig's faded bruise on his cheek. Craig glances at him and smiles a bit.

 

“I think your boyfriend is waking up, by the way,” The lad directs to Evan, snickering at the small pout that appears on Evan's face. He drags himself off the couch, moving up the stairs and to the room.

 

Brock is shifting under the blankets, turning and looking to the door when Evan enters. Evan smiles, shuffling over when Brock lifts the blanket in an invitation for Evan to join him. He accepts, sliding into the bed beside Brock, huge smile spreading across his face when Moo tugs the owl close with an arm around his chest.

 

“Marcel's going to see Scotty for Christmas,” Evan says quietly after a few moments of silence. Brock hums lazily in response, pulling the owl somehow closer and hiding his face in his neck. “You're really gay.”

 

“Says you,” Brock smirks, giving an almost undetectable kiss to Evan's shoulder.

 

“You think Craig is gonna go over seas for Christmas?” Evan asks.

 

Brock shrugs a bit, sighing against Evan's shoulder. “We'll see.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> abrupt ending is abrupt
> 
> also yeah it happened it finally happened. fangirling mini is my absolute favorite. i hope you guys are as happy aboot this as i am. vanoo is so cute. i like itttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt


	33. Make up your Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I RLY DONT LIKE THE BEGINNING OF THIS CHAPTER OKAY SO IF U WANNA JUST SKIP THE FIRST FEW PARAGRAPHS THAS ALL GOOD YO
> 
> uhhh sorry for not updating. i'll explain that in the ending note :00
> 
> yes hello this chapter is pretty much the last chill chapter. from this chapter on there is literally no chill. no more chill. everyone's fucked. but i promise its all in the name of plot and science. totally. tooooottalllllllyyyyyyy...,,,,,,,,,,,
> 
> thank you guys for being patient and i'll see you guys in the end note, and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ <3 :33

_Everyone_ is gone during Christmas. Craig has dragged Tyler over seas to the land of tea and biscuits for a small family party, using the opportunity to _finally_ introduce his totally not illegal boyfriend to his close family, and Marcel has flown to the states to have a few minutes with Scotty. The house is a lot bigger without the other three, in Evan's opinion, and it's a bit weird to try and get used to. Brock is with him, sharing the same emotions, but the two are overall happy, seeing as how they get to stay together.

 

Christmas this year is quiet, Brock and Evan sleeping a majority of the day away, then staying in bed even longer after they've woken up. They don't do anything extravagant, anything exciting or fun, choosing to treat it as a normal day. The most they do is sit together on the patio, scooping up some of the snow that's been gathered to either throw it at each other or attempt to build something until Brock's gotten too cold to bend his fingers correctly. But even with his cold, trembling hands, he finds a chance to shove some of the snow down the back of Evan's shirt and jacket.

 

The crew isn't too on point with getting each other gifts, all of them preferring to just get the others gifts as they see them instead of waiting for Christmas or a birthday and what not. But since the scuffle both Mini and Brock had with Delirious and the others, the two have been without cell phones, and Evan secretly took it upon himself to fix it. He gave Craig his just before he left with Tyler, but saved Brock's for Christmas evening, casually shoving it under Brock's pillow and laughing at the confused face Brock makes when he goes to lay down.

 

“I could've paid for my own,” Brock smiles to Evan, fiddling with the new device. Evan just shrugs a bit, watching Brock mess around. “Thank you, Ev.”

 

“Ewww, don't get all thankful and mushy,” Evan jokes. Brock smirks a bit, giving Evan a few tickles to his ribs.

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

“GOD DAMMIT MINI STOP!”

 

Marcel's voice makes Evan jump a bit, the owl sharing a confused look with Brock. He pokes his head out of his room, raising an eyebrow when he sees Craig and Tyler together, hands wrapped around Marcel's doorknob, the two leaning away from the door. Marcel is yelling at the two from inside, barely understandable over the couples laughter.

 

“New year, new jokes!!” Tyler tells the other.

 

“This is horrible and I hate you fucking fucks!!” Marcel responds, jiggling the door handle before fading into a coughing fit.

 

“Please don't kill him,” Evan directs to the two, and they only nod a bit. “What did you two do?”

 

“I got some super fucking disgusting fart spray from over seas,” Mini replies, nodding towards the spray can on the floor.

 

“Ewww,” Evan smiles, glancing at his phone. “I'm going to bed soon, so if I get woken up by this stuff, I'm gonna make you _drink_ that can.”

 

“Please do it anyway!!” Marcel's muffled voice comes from his room, and he laughs a bit, closing himself back in his own room. Brock shifts under the covers and glances at Evan, smiling when he sits next to him.

 

“What happened?” Brock asks.

 

“They locked Marcel in a room with fart spray,” Evan relays, smiling at the grossed out groan from Brock.

 

An annoying song plays from Evan's hand and he huffs, reading the name flashing across his screen. With a raised eyebrow, he answers.

 

“Yeah?” He answers.

 

“Hey,” Chilled comes through. “I know it's a little late, but.. I think something's going on?”

 

“What do you mean?” Evan leans back against the pillows, fingers patting against the arm that wraps around his waist in a lazy attempt at a hug.

 

“I don't know,” Chilled huffs. “I think someone might be, like.... Messing with me. Like there's someone outside, just kind of lingering. And I'm not exactly the best suited for defending myself, y'know?”

 

“Do you need a hand?” Evan asks, already figuring he knows the answer.

 

“If you don't mind. I trust you a bit more with these weird little house-protection call things than I do Sark. He just waves them off until something big happens.”

 

“Sure, dude. I'll come check it out,” Evan says, smiling at the annoyed huff coming from next to him. “Please don't try to murder me if I knock.”

 

Anthony laughs a bit at that, the two exchanging small goodbyes before hanging up. Brock pouts a bit, face burying into Evan's side.

 

“I gotta. Someone might be stalking little Chilly Willy. Gonna make sure he's alright.”

 

“Please be safe,” Brock huffs, rolling his eyes at the childish nagging imitation that comes from Evan's mouth. Evan smiles down at Brock, hesitating for a moment before pressing a small kiss to his temple, shoving his feet into his shoes and leaving the room. He almost throws up at the disgusting smell coming from Marcel's open door and he covers his nose and mouth, quickly moving down the stairs and to his car. He can already tell he's gonna have a long night.

 

\- --- - --- - -----

 

Evan parks about a block from Anthony's small house, shoving his keys in his pocket and moving from the vehicle. The neighborhood is fairly dark, giving himself (and whoever may be lurking near Chilled) a good cover to make his way through the street unnoticed.

 

He moves until he finds the small house he's looking for, standing in the shadows as he takes a small glance around the tiny yard. Nothing seems out of place, his breath faintly visible against the light coming from Anthony's windows. Evan takes a step into the yard, stopping when there's a shuffle near the corner. There's a shadow that moves, and Evan holds his breath, squinting at the figure.

 

It suddenly dashes, running the opposite direction of Evan, and Evan impulsively runs after it. It's a man, obviously, with what looks like a bag on his shoulder. He's fairly quick, but makes the mistake of trying to hop the fence just behind Chilled's house, giving Evan the chance to grab the back of his jacket and throw him to the ground.

 

Pistol from his waistband in his hand, Evan stands over him, growling when he notices the person beneath him resembles Adam too closely. He scrambles away from Evan, chest falling and rising quickly, but he doesn't move to get up, staring at the gun in Evan's hand.

 

“Evan, man, c'mon,” Adam practically whimpers. “Seriously, I'm not doing anything bad, I'm just doing personal stuff!”

 

“You're fucking lurking near someone who's under _my protection_ from _you_ specifically,” Evan snaps. “What kind of personal business is this?? You're extremely out of line, and you know it.”

 

“No! I mean, yeah, I am and stuff..” Adam glances around nervously. “I know, okay?? But Evan, you have to let me talk to Anthony.. It's serious! Like, super serious, and kind of important.”

 

“No,” Evan replies coldly, raising the gun to actually point it at Adam. Adam throws his hands up.

 

“Evan no no please! I don't want Anthony to die!”

 

Evan stops, raising an eyebrow at the other. _He doesn't want Chilled to die._

 

“Why would he?” Evan asks.

 

“Terroriser is off his fucking rocker,” Adam replies slowly. “He's going fucking batshit. It's insane, and he's been close to murdering Gassy and Ohm and me and everyone else, and he's being violent, and he's...” Adam stares into the distance, slowly shaking his head. “Evan, please... Let me talk to him.”

 

Evan feels some sort of need to comply, to bring Adam in to talk with Chilled, but something else just doesn't feel right. Then again, if Adam is telling the truth, Chilled _could_ be in danger.

 

“Please, Evan,” Adam pleads quietly, hands still up in the air submissively.

 

“Up,” Evan orders, and Adam is quick to comply, moving to his feet and letting Evan grab a hold of one of his elbows, gun pressing right into his spine. He leads Adam right to Chilled's front door, knocking lightly and listening on the inside. Once he hears Anthony's light footsteps, he says, “Chilled, don't open the door yet.”

 

“Why?” Anthony replies from the other side.

 

“Well, I found who was lurking. It's Adam. He says something really important needs to be talked about, and he's apparently too much of a coward to knock.” Adam huffs, earning a small press of the gun against his skin to remind him of its presence. “I'll be here, in case he tries to pull something, but this talk is up to you. If you don't want anything to do with him, I'll send him away. It's your call.”

 

There's complete silence, and Evan can feel how Adam is holding his breath. It's silent for several moments, but eventually, the door unlocks, and footsteps are heard leaving the door.

 

Evan slowly opens the door, peeking inside before leading Adam in, kicking it closed behind him. Chilled is walking away from them, moving straight to the living room and turning off the T.V, flopping himself onto the couch and tucking his feet underneath him. He doesn't say anything or look at the two, and Adam takes a few cautious steps towards the other.

 

“Anth--”

 

“Chilled,” Anthony corrects him, Adam physically hurt by the cold tone.

 

“Chilled,” Adam tries again, moving closer. “Can you at least look at me?”

 

“Can I?” Chilled replies childishly.

 

“Dammit, Anthony, I'm being serious right now!”

 

“Well congratulations, dickhead, do you want a fucking medal??” Anthony snaps, arms crossing over his chest. “I thought you were serious when you swore to Sark's face that you were on our side, too, so I think you can tell where my doubt in you comes from.”

 

“Well that doesn't fucking matter, okay?? I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I can't do anything that will ever make me feel like I've made it up to you. But I'm trying, okay?”

 

Chilled doesn't respond, only keeps his head turned away from Adam. He moves over to Chilled, kneeing in front of the couch, putting his hands on either side of Anthony. “Anthony, please, I was so wrong. I fucked up so bad, okay? I know that. I've beat myself up countless times thinking about how I've ruined yours and Sark's trust.. I know I've been with Terroriser, but I'm _still Adam..._ I'm still the Adam that fucking fell head over heels for you, still the Adam that wants to keep you safe.. Chilled, that's _why_ I'm here.”

 

Anthony lowers his head a bit, finally letting his eyes drift to Adam's face. “You're a traitor.. This could all be just some way of getting me to give you something useful..”

 

“No, no no...” Adam practically whimpers, face falling in response to how Anthony is feeling. “Look, I can prove it to you, okay? Because, man... Terroriser is fucked. He's hurting us, and he's threatening to come after people that aren't Banana Bus... Like Sark, Lui.. You, Anthony. He's talked about going after _you._ It isn't safe. _No one_ is safe... We need to leave, okay?”

 

“Leave?” Anthony repeats, anxiously kneading his hands together. “Adam, you aren't making sense..”

 

“We. Aren't. Safe. I've got money and everything, so you and I can just leave... We can go to the states.. _Something.”_

 

“I don't...” Chilled trails off, watching Adam grab the bag he's been carrying. He opens it, both Evan and Chilled's eyes widening in surprise at the rolls of cash inside.

 

“Forty thousand,” Adam says quietly. “Twice this in my bank. I know I joke a lot, I lie a lot... But this isn't one of those times. This is me trying to show you that you need to trust me to keep you safe..”

 

Anthony only stares, slowly scooting away from Adam and standing up, running his hands through his hair. Adam stands, too, watching the other for some sort of acknowledgment. Anthony turns to Evan, giving him an expectant look.

 

“M-My opinion?” Evan guesses, getting a small nod from Chilled. Evan swallows thickly, looking between the two. Everything Adam is saying is believable in some way, and Evan is, for some Gods awful reason, inclined to trust him. Maybe it's the bag of cash, maybe it's the believable actions of Terroriser, maybe it's the broken look in Adam's eyes, so different than the eyes Evan thought he knew so well. With a deep breath, he answers, “New Year, new you..”

 

“Anthony..” Adam asks quietly, slowly reaching a hand out to place it on Chilled's shoulder. Chilled doesn't respond, wringing his hands together again.

 

“I don't have an answer for you,” Anthony replies quietly, choosing not to look at the other two. Adam slowly nods, retrieving a folded piece of paper from his pocket and placing it on the couch.

 

“Please, call me, Chilled..” Adam mumbles to him. Anthony only looks at him, arms still folded across his chest as he nods a little bit.

 

“Can you take him?” Chilled directs to Evan, and Evan nods a bit, shoving his pistol back into his waistband. Adam closes the backpack once again, slipping past both Evan and Chilled, exiting the house. Evan waves a bit to Chilled, promptly following Adam out.

 

“Adam.” Evan says before Adam gets too far. He turns a bit, watching Evan take a few steps closer. “How truthful are you being?”

 

“I don't know how to express to you my honesty,” Adam replies quietly, looking up at the clouds, huffing at the snow that begins falling. “You believe me, don't you?”

 

“To a degree,” Evan tells him, looking at the clouds as well. “I think Anthony does, too, but... He was fucked up after your little robbery.”

 

Adam turns his head down, staring at the ground. He nods a bit, shifting the bag on his shoulder. “Do you need a ride?”

 

“I have one,” Adam replies. “Thanks for the offer, but I don't think you going anywhere near Sandy Shores would be a good idea.”

 

A sudden idea hits Evan as he watches Adam, biting the inside of his cheek before speaking. “You wanna prove your loyalty to Anthony?” Adam nods. “What can you tell me about Terroriser? Like, anything.”

 

Adam glances around, stepping a bit closer. “Well... I know he's probably gonna get rid of his contract with Delirious soon, because the two have been going at each other for a few days.. Uhm.... Oh, he's looking really into everyone under his wing since, y'know... Nogla and all. Anyone who he thinks is a traitor, he just... puts a bullet through their head. No questions asked. And he has people patrolling Los Santos now.. Looking for any of your crew, or Lui or Nogla or whoever.. I mean, that's it, really... He hasn't come up with any extravagant plans against **you**.”

 

Evan slowly nods a bit, shifting his hands inside his pockets. There's a feeling of dread that begins to loom over him, his stomach churning in fear. He feels like he _needs_ to trust Adam right now. The legitimate safety of his crew depends on his honesty, and if Terroriser is beginning to target them, he needs to be able to get them out of harm's way. He _needs_ to be able to keep them alive.

 

“I believe you,” Evan says. Adam lifts his head, giving Evan a look of relief he's never seen on Adam before. “But I can't guarantee everyone else will. You need to be careful here, Adam. Terroriser seems like a ticking time bomb. Please, don't bump him.”

 

“That's why I need Anthony to make up his mind... As quick as he can... We can't risk Terroriser finding out.”

 

“You're playing a dangerous game, Adam... But, good luck.” Evan gives Adam a moment to smile, giving Evan a few thank yous and what not. “But.”

 

“B-But?” Adam asks nervously.

 

Evan pulls the pistol from his waistband once more, making sure Adam can see his finger on the trigger, but he doesn't point it at Seananners. “If you fuck with Anthony, it's gonna be me and Sark that come after you. I'm giving you a chance here that shouldn't even be given.”

 

Adam's body tenses as his hands tightly grip around the backpack strap, head nodding rapidly. “Y-Yeah. Totally. Jesus Christ, you're kinda scary, Vanoss.”

 

“Good,” Evan smiles. “Get away before someone sees you.”

 

Adam turns, giving him a small wave. Evan watches him flee for a moment, slowly returning the gun to his waistband once more. On his way home, he thinks of Brock at one point, and their conversation they had a couple of weeks ago. Brock had suggested they run away, much like Adam is with Chilled now. It's like deja vu for Evan, though he keeps his mouth shut about it. The less people that know, the less chance they'd have of getting found out, right?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEP
> 
> okay so as for my update situation,,,,, basically, ive been writing fairly long chapters as of right now, and they're all very /very/ plot heavy, so i've just been grinding down and writing them the best i can. with that being said, I've seen how the timing of all these chapters are playing out, and so I've been wildly swinging between wanting to continue daily updates and wanting to just finish writing the entire fic and then either daily post after that, or just throw it all out at once. there are so many things i could do. so many. i STILL dont know exactly what i wanna do, but i felt the need to post this chapter so i could kinda update everyone here (i would've just made this little update on tumblr but I know not all of you are there sssssso might as well do it here.) 
> 
> please don't hate me for the next chapter. or the one after that. or the one after that one. Please dont hate me for all the chapters after this one. they're gonna be pretty fucking rude.
> 
> i need to update the tags soon...
> 
> you guys stay coolio and ill see you guys in the next <33333


	34. Chaos at Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorrysorrysorrysorrysORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYYYYYYYYYYY
> 
> Trigger warningssss: death. so many. 
> 
> s o r r y
> 
> *throws this here and runs away to wait for you guys at the end note*

Evan got back later than he wanted to from helping Chilled out with Adam, and when he did, he couldn't sleep. There's so many things he's learned that he can't stop thinking about, and each thing brought some new feeling of anxiety or fear or anger over him. He didn't even bother going to his room when he returned; he didn't want to wake Brock.

 

At nearly nine in the morning, Evan's finally beginning to get unbearably tired, eyes constantly trying to close on him as he watches T.V. The house is silent, other than the low volume, and he forces himself to sit up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His body aches from being curled up on the couch, and stretching only makes it worse. Grouchily, he drags himself to the kitchen, setting the coffee pot to begin brewing. He snatches his jacket from the couch, slipping it on his shoulders as he steps outside. Once out, he realizes how cold his feet are, and looking down he sees he's forgotten his shoes. With a small shrug, he moves to one of the chairs, tucking his feet beneath him as he sits.

 

He stares at his pack of Redwoods on the table, grabbing it and turning it in his hands a few times.

 

“ _I thought you said you quit.”_

 

He groans a bit, tossing the pack back onto the table. He doesn't even know what he's thinking, he's so tired. But he _really_ can't screw over his sleep schedule right now, and that's exactly what would happen if he decides to crash now.

 

He distracts himself with reaching his hand down to the ground, finger drawing small things in the snow. He draws a banana first, adds some wheels and a happy face to it, then 5 little windows with smiling faces inside. He smiles softly to it, poking at the snow around it.

 

The glass door opens and he turns his head a bit, another smile stretching his lips when he sees Brock standing there. He's still in his pajamas, so he stays in the doorway, tapping his fingers against the glass lightly. “You should probably come inside. Even if you're Canadian and immune to becoming an icicle.”

 

Evan smiles even more, standing from his place, making sure to avoid stepping on his drawing. Brock huffs, looking at his feet as Evan comes back inside. “No shoes? Seriously?”

 

“Forgot,” Evan shrugs, closing the glass door behind him as Brock limps to the couch. He flops onto the couch next to the older, leaning against him and draping an arm over his lap. Brock wraps an arm around his shoulders and pats his cheek, getting a whine from Evan. “Please, no.”

 

“Did you sleep?” Brock raises an eyebrow. Hesitantly, Evan shakes his head. “Dammit, Evan.”

 

“I was busy,” He shrugs.

 

“How was Chilled?” He asks.

 

“Uh, good. Pretty good.” Evan buries his face in Brock's arm, a yawn ripping through him. “It was nothing.”

 

Evan closes his eyes tight, using Brock's arm to hide the action as the older just nods. He needs to stop lying. Especially to Brock. But he can't risk someone finding out about Adam that doesn't need to know.

 

Brock keeps Evan close, the two staring at the boring show on T.V. Evan's eyes eventually close, and he soon drifts to sleep, leaned up against Brock.

 

So much for his sleeping schedule.

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

_It isn't safe. No one is safe... We need to leave, okay?_

 

Evan's eyes quickly rip open, a sharp breath being sucked in. But even with being awake, Adam's words continue to echo in his head, causing Evan's stomach to drop. _It's not safe._

 

He rubs his eyes, glancing around after he does, and suddenly begins to realize he's not laying on just the couch, but instead, on Brock. The older is still awake, eyes glued to his phone, feet propped up on the coffee table with an arm still draped around Evan. When Evan shifts against him a bit, he glances at him, smiling a little when he notices the owl is awake. “That was the quickest nap ever.”

 

“How long?” Evan grumbles, laying his head on Brock's shoulder. Brock glances to his phone once more.

 

“Maybe an hour?”

 

Evan groans a bit, stretching his legs out on the couch a bit. Brock just smiles, taking his arm from around Evan when Evan begins to sit up straight. He shuffles himself to the kitchen, whining when he finds the coffee cold. “Why do bad things happen to me?”

 

The rest of the day is completely silent from then on, and Evan can't help but get an eerie feeling from the quiet. He ignores the feelings, chugging coffee after coffee to keep him awake throughout the day. It works for the most part, other than a few moments where Evan accidentally dozed off for a few minutes while sitting around. Each time, he's been woken up by the smallest sounds or the smallest movements around him, and he pours himself another cup of coffee.

 

He eventually made his way upstairs, lazily flopping himself into bed next to Brock. Neither of the two say much, Brock wanting Evan to get actual sleep, and he eventually does, face buried into the pillow beneath him.

 

\- --- - ---- - -----

 

“Evan,” Brock huffs quietly, shaking Evan's shoulder lightly. Evan stirs a bit, whining as he pulls the covers over his head. “Evan, your phone...”

 

“What?” Evan grumbles, peeking out of the blanket at Brock. Brock lazily points a hand to Evan's side.

 

“It's been going crazy,” He huffs. “Probably something important...”

 

Evan turns towards the table beside his bed, reaching out to grab his phone. He has three missed calls from Sark, and a text from his that simply says _“Get to my apartment NOW.”_

 

It's only 10 in the morning, and the fact that the calls are coming this early makes Evan's stomach drop in fear. Something's not right, and he has a sinking feeling that he knows what's happening, but he _prays_ that he's wrong, oh so wrong.

 

He quickly slides out of bed, shoving his feet into his shoes and snatching a dark shirt from his dresser, throwing it over his body. Brock watches, slowly sitting up a bit.

 

“Evan?” Brock cautiously asks.

 

“I have to go,” He simply responds. “I'll call you.”

 

“Where are you going??” Brock hollers after Evan as the owl slips out of the room, but Evan doesn't reply, only grabs his jacket from downstairs and climbs into his car.

 

Once he's made it to Sark's, he knocks on the door of the apartment lightly, raising an eyebrow when there's no response. Slowly, he turns the knob, surprised to find the door unlocked. He pokes his head in, taking a small look around, squinting in the dim light.

 

“Sark?” He calls, stepping inside and closing the door quietly. There's a small hum from the direction of the bedroom. He moves down the hallway cautiously, stopping in the doorway as he glances inside the room.

 

Sark is sat at the edge of the bed, head in his hands and elbows on his knees, hair a slight mess. When he looks up at Evan, he looks awful. His eyes are red, bags heavy underneath, his face drained of any emotions. Evan opens his mouth to question him, but Sark reaches next to him, holding his phone out to Evan. Evan slowly takes it, glancing at the screen. There's a voicemail loaded up, the caller I.D telling him it's from Anthony, and with Sark only putting his face back into his hands, he slowly presses play.

 

“ _-Okay! Sark, hi.. Okay, this is really stupid.. Like, **really** fucking stupid. And I really don't want you to worry about anything, okay? But, I'm leaving.. As in, Los Santos. Hell, maybe even the United States. And, hopefully, I won't be coming back. Maybe for a visit. But it won't be for a **really really** long time.. I also can't contact you at all... Not until I know I'm clear. I'll be okay, because I have someone with me, and they're gonna help me. Please, don't do anything dumb, and... Have fun, okay? I'll talk to you on the other side, whenever that is... Bye..”_

 

The voicemail ends, and Evan's stomach churns grossly. His eyes move to Sark, and the older looks so _upset_. Evan saw this coming, but it just looks much worse than he thought it would. Though, he plays it off as if he never knew, as if he's just as surprised as anyone else would be.

 

“S-So he's gone?” Evan asks, lowering the phone from his ear.

 

“Oh yeah, he's fucking gone,” Sark spits sourly. “Head and all. Fucking gone. Along with Adam's.”

 

“What are you... Talking about?” Evan cautiously asks, fingers nervously tapping around the phone in his hand.

 

“He was leaving with Adam last night... After he left me that.. And guess who paid them a fucking visit.”

 

“Sark-”

 

“Delirious fucking murdered them,” Sark spits, pushing his palms into his temples, bowing his head like it pains him to say it. Evan's heart stops, breath catching harshly in his throat. “They're all over the news... They were almost unrecognizable. And he's fucking _bragging_ about it.”

 

Evan's completely speechless. They're dead. Adam and Anthony are _dead._ His hands shake as he slowly leans back against the wall. Not only is their death absolutely clawing at Evan's mind, but so is the fact that it was Delirious once again stepping into his life and hurting something he loves. Adam was right; no one is safe. And if Evan had told someone about the plan, even if it was just Sark that he told, they could've helped prevent this in _some way._

 

Evan honestly can't believe it. He lays Sark's phone on the table near him, using shaky hands to grab his own phone, checking for the recent news around Los Santos, just to try and see that absolutely nothing is there, and that this is all some cruel joke. But much to Evan's displeasure, one of the top stories is of a double homicide in a small home in Hawick. All the articles are telling of how Anthony and Adam were shot with what seems to be a shotgun, both being nearly decapitated by the blasts, the bedroom a mess as if they were packing to leave. There are even mugshots of the two, plastered over the website.

 

“He was like... Like an idiot son..” Sark mumbles, dropping his hands from his face, keeping his head bowed to watch his hands tangle together. “Do you think he knew..? How much he mattered to us...?”

 

“I think..” Evan slowly replies, sliding down the wall to sit with his knees to his chest, chin resting atop his knees. “What do we do...?”

 

“We find Delirious, and we put a shell through his fucking skull,” Sark hisses. “Same with Terroriser. This game needs to end, _now.”_

 

Evan can only nod in response at the moment, his throat clenched painfully tight from trying to hold back the sobs trying to force their way through. Once he's sure he can speak without breaking, he asks, “What do you want me to do?”

 

“I want you to stay low. Fuck, I want every single one of your crew members to stay down and out of sight at all fucking costs. This is getting dangerous, and I really don't want to lose any more of you.” Evan slowly nods a bit. “We need to clear his apartment after the investigations are done, though..”

 

“We'll do it,” Evan replies. “Maybe not all of us, but a few of us... We can just get it over with quick..”

 

Sark stays quiet, tears filling the older's eyes, and he just stares at the floor, hands still pressed against the sides of his head. Evan feels awful, and he honestly has no fucking idea what to do. He wants to sob, and at the same time, wants to hide alone and seethe with rage. He's so confused, and one of the biggest things that linger over him is how the fuck is he going to tell the others (assuming they haven't been watching the news or anything). There's no way he could tell them without it hurting.

 

“Go home, Evan... Let everyone know... And just.. stay low. I'll call you later.”

 

Evan nods a bit, slowly pushing himself off of the floor and to his feet. He gives Sark a quiet goodbye, phone clutched tightly in his hands. He doesn't want to go home. He doesn't want to go _anywhere._ He's so emotionally overwhelmed that he can't cry, can't feel angry, he can't even feel fear. He's just completely numb, driving with his hands tight around the steering wheel.

 

When he walks into the house, there's quiet talking from the living room, all talking stopping when the door closes audibly. Brock appears at the end of the small hallway, face soaked with concern, and Evan can already tell he knows. Just the way Brock's eyes have no happy shine like they usually do tells Evan everything.

 

“Did you see...? The news..?” Brock cautiously asks. Evan slowly nods, unable to keep down the tears that begin to flood his eyes. Brock takes a few uneven steps towards the owl, holding a hand out, and Evan immediately takes it, letting the older pull him into a secure hug. He buries his face into Brock's shoulder, tears soaking into the other's shirt. He can hear the other roommates talking quietly to each other, no doubt able to see his small sobbing fit, but he couldn't care less at the moment.

 

“I knew this would happen,” Evan hiccups into Brock's shoulder. “I-I saw Adam.. When I went to Chilled's.. And he was going on about how none of us are safe and how he wanted to take Anthony away, and I just kept it to myself..! We could've done something..”

 

Brock only shushes him quietly, wrapping his arms tighter around Evan in a protective manner. “Evan, shh.. Please, calm down, okay..? We'll figure something out.. Okay..?”

 

It takes a long time for Evan to eventually calm down enough to gain a normal breathing rhythm and clean his face from the tears, and Brock doesn't let him go until he's sure he won't break down again. Evan glances into the living room, seeing Marcel, Tyler, and Craig sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch, Craig leaned into Tyler, his eyes red from his silent crying. Craig hung out with Chilled almost every day of the week, and having him gone is no doubt going to put a huge damper on Craig's attitude.

 

Tyler nor Marcel look any better, faces cast to the floor, shoulders slumped. Everything just feels.. Off, now. Knowing that Anthony is gone forever, along with Adam. It brings a whole cloud of heavy feelings over the house, sending all five men into their own personal hell.

 

Evan finally convinced Brock to let him cower away to the bedroom, but Brock came with, the two sitting cross legged on the covers, facing each other with their knees gently touching. Evan's head is bowed, eyes blankly staring at his hands as they sit motionless in his lap. Brock reaches a hand over to lightly place it onto Evan's, giving the younger a reassuring squeeze. Evan's head lifts, eyes moving to Brock's worried face.

 

“When you're ready,” Brock begins quietly, voice soft for the owl. “I want you to just... Let it out. Tell me everything you know.”

 

Evan slowly nods, taking in a deep breath. Everything begins buzzing around in his head, a dull pain instantly beginning to throb in his skull. He takes one more deep breath, breaking his eye contact with Brock in favor of staring at their hands instead. “Terroriser is going after everyone... He has people in the city looking for every one of us... And he was talking about going after a bunch of none crew members... Like Arlan and Lui and Sark...” A sudden realization hits Evan once more, and he has to force the sobs down. “Delirious... H-He did it.. Jesus Christ, it was Delirious..”

 

An involuntary whimper escapes Evan's lips, tears beginning to fill his eyes once again. Brock lifts his hands, cupping the sides of Evan's face and stroking his cheekbones lightly with his thumbs, smearing the stray tears that fall from his eyes. He shushes Evan softly again, Evan leaning forward into the touches lightly, a small hiccup coming from his lips when Brock rests his forehead against Evan's. The closeness almost immediately begins to calm Evan down, the younger taking deep breaths, hands reaching up to wrap lightly around Brock's wrists.

 

A question plagues Evan's mind, and without realizing it, he's voicing the question out loud between shaky breaths. “Why is he doing this..?” Evan mumbles. “What did we do to Delirious that changed him so much..? He was so nice...”

 

“Shh, Evan.. We did nothing.. _you_ did nothing.. It's all in his head, okay? Look at me.”

 

Evan reluctantly pulls away from Brock a bit, eyes moving up to lock with his. Brock keeps his hands on either side of Evan's face.

 

“You're safe.”

 

Evan lets out a choked sob, closing his eyes tight and bowing his head. It's such a lie. Such a fucking lie that seems to slither it's way into everyone's fucking mouth, choosing to come out when Evan needs it least. Brock presses soft kisses across the top of Evan's head and forehead.

 

Evan eventually calms down once again, hands laid limply in Brock's lap, Brock's own hands giving Evan's arms comforting strokes. The two sit together in silence for a few moments, Evan soon leaning to the other to press a soft kiss to his lips. Brock returns the kiss, giving a small smile at the soft grin that stretches Evan's lips when he pulls away. A yawn rips through him, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster he's been on over the day. Brock gets him to lay down, holding Evan close in his arms as they snuggle under the covers, giving Evan the secure, close feeling he so desperately needs at the current moment. It allows Evan to fall asleep rather quickly, face buried deep in the other's chest with a small voice echoing in his mind.

 

_It never had to come to this._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. YEAH. SORRY ABOUT THAT. IT WAS NECESSARY. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME.
> 
> also, i've mostly finished writing this entire fanfic!! i have to finish the chapter im currently working on, then I have to write the last chapter, tHEN i have to write the epilogue chapter thing, and then iTS DONEEEE. so there's gonna be at least 40 chapters. hella. 
> 
> i literally have nothing else to say, i just couldn't wait to post this chapter anymore. i wanted to get some actual death happening. and believe me, this isn't the last of the death.
> 
> as of scheduling, no clue. not sure what I'm gonna do. I'll probably start doing daily chapters again :00 oh well we'll see. 
> 
> see you guys soon <3


	35. One More Go Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALLLRIGHT HERE LISTEN I DONT KNOW HOW HOSPITALS WORK SO LETS JUST GET THAT OUT OF THE WAY BEFORE THIS STARTS HHHHHAAAAAA,,,
> 
> ALSO THIS IS A VERY BBBAAAADDDDDD CHAPTER AND I DONT LIKE IT OKAY BUT I PLAN ON FIXING THAT IN THE FUTURE LMAO
> 
> sssoooorrrrrrrrryyyy about all the death love u guise <3333 and as always, i hope ye enjoy :3

It was a few quiet days before anyone that wasn't working with the City was allowed into Anthony's house. Evan's hardly slept or ate in the days, leaving him grouchy and weaker than he should be. His sleep is constantly cut short by nightmares or just plain memories, never letting him fall back to sleep. He's constantly worrying about something, leaving him nauseous and without an appetite all the time. He hates it, but there's seemingly nothing he can do to fix it.

 

He's brought along Tyler and Marcel to Anthony's house, meeting there with Sark, Droid, and Lui. The six immediately get to work, sorting through the items throughout the apartment, deciding what they should keep and what they shouldn't. It feels horrible in the house, like the walls and ceiling are too close to the men, and the fact that Adam and Anthony's last moments were spent there is lingering over them hauntingly. Evan's ignoring it the best he can, focusing on doing what Sark politely asks of him, but he always finds himself thinking of something that threatens to throw him into hysterics.

 

Sark is ultimately in charge of what the group does, and everyone finds it fitting. He is-- _was_ the closest to Chilled, so it only makes sense. Chilled had a lot of little things scattered around his room, like collections of various action figures and books, games and movies. Sark decided that a lot of it was worth keeping, getting the small items all packed away and neatly tucked into his own SUV. They've packed up all of his clothing and shoes, deciding that they could always go to one of those donation places they have around town for the people who aren't able to afford brand new clothing. A majority of the furniture had come with the house, and none of the six knew exactly which items they were, so they left everything that wasn't directly tied to Anthony behind.

 

Evan really admires how strong Sark can seem on the outside. He was smiling a lot to the others, even cracking a joke now and then, obviously keeping the humor within reason. Though, he wasn't as pulled together as he tried to give off. A few times during the day, Sark has had to leave the group, take himself outside to have a cigarette and a break, obviously on the verge of tears. Arlan follows him out his most recent break, and Sark eventually lets go, and Droid gives him a shoulder to cry on for a few moments. But after that, Sark is back inside, giving the group small smiles as they continue their work.

 

They finish quite early in the day, and the crew separates from the other three, heading back to the safety of their own house. The group is still understandably upset, so there's no bouncy, happy, excited feeling to the air of the house. It's almost dead quiet, everyone uncharacteristically tired and upset. Marcel stays in his own room, Tyler and Mini in theirs, and Brock and Evan in their own. The two just stay close to each other, either napping out or playing around on their phones. Evan hates the horrible mood looming over the house, but he knows he can't do anything to fix it. This scene has caused too much of a panic in the group for their normal routines to continue on as was for a while.

 

As for Ponsonby's, Sark has closed it for the time being, until he finds someone who can help Craig out full time without having to worry about crew life. Craig isn't too happy about it, but he agrees nonetheless, keeping Tyler and the others company in the large house.

 

_It was never supposed to go like this._

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

They aren't getting a break anymore.

 

Evan's phone is ringing violently on the bedside table. Evan hesitantly grabs it, heart sinking at the fact it's past nine at night. Nothing ever good comes in a phone call from Sark at night anymore.

 

“Yeah?” Evan says into the phone, giving a silent apology to Brock with a pat to the back as he shifts sleepily beside Evan.

 

“Get to the downtown hospital and find Lui before he gets his dumb ass arrested,” Sark barks quickly. Evan's heart stops, and he quickly climbs out of bed, shoving his shoes onto his feet once more.

 

“What happened?” Evan asks, ignoring the questioning sounds coming from the other on the bed.

 

“All I could understand was that Droid and Nogla were attacked. Lui is fucking flipping his lid. I can't get there quick enough, but I'll be there. You need to go calm him down, distract him, _something, please.”_

 

“Y-Yeah, of course,” Evan stutters, running a hand through his hair. The call ends, and Evan swallows thickly. This is bad. This is _very bad._

 

“Evan??” Brock tries again.

 

“Arlan and Nogla are in the hospital.. I'll call you soon, okay? Just...”

 

Evan leans over the bed, pressing a small kiss to Brock's lips before quickly pulling away, grabbing his jacket once more and leaving the house. _No one is safe._

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

“Sir, please, I'll take care of him!” Evan tries again loudly, holding a hand up to the officer that has a hand wrapped tightly around Lui's elbow, attempting to handcuff the angered man. “He's just upset, alright?? Putting him in jail isn't gonna fucking help!”

 

The officer reluctantly releases Lui to Evan, telling the owl about how he's gonna need to keep his friend under control, or he is gonna have to leave the hospital, either by his own free will or in the back of a squad car. The officer finally leaves, leaving Lui and Evan alone in a large, empty hallway near the waiting room. It's quiet, other than the huffs coming from Lui and the faint beeping and buzzing of various hospital equipment.

 

Lui looks awful. His hands and legs are shaking a ridiculous amount, breath coming in rough pants, tears- both old and new- staining his cheeks. He's pacing now, hands on the sides of his head, and he looks like he's looking for something, head turning quickly from side to side as he looks down the halls.

 

“Lui, stop,” Evan says, firmly taking a hold of Lui's shoulders. Lui struggles against him a bit, but Evan doesn't let go, forcing the other to stay still. “Lui, what the fuck is going on?”

 

“I don't-- fuck... Jesus..” Lui takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “They weren't even working..! Some guys pulled up... Shot them up... But they only went for Arlan and Nogla... Oh my god, Evan... My guys were saying they were both out.. What if they don't wake up?? Oh my god oh god...”

 

Lui hides his face in his hands, bowing his head. Evan goes to comfort him, lifting his head when there are rapid footsteps approaching. There's a small woman approaching them, dressed in hospital scrubs from head to toe, red hair pulled up in a tight bun with thin glasses sitting atop her nose. She's glancing between her clipboard and the floor in front of her, but when her eyes land on Lui, she stops.

 

“Excuse me, sirs?” She asks in a soft voice. Evan turns to her, and Lui slowly lifts his head. “Are you Lui?” She directs to Lui.

 

Lui nods a bit, and she gives him a soft smile, glancing through her clipboard once again. “You were a little challenge to find. Thought you'd be in the waiting room. You're with Arlan and David, correct?” He gives her another soft nod. “Perfect! So, good news, both of your friends are going to be just fine. It was quite the little show, but both of them should make a full recovery within the next few months.”

 

She sighs a bit, skimming through the clipboard. “David has suffered from five gunshot wounds, three in his back and two in his abdomen. We had to work quite hard to get him stabilized again, and we even lost him once during the surgery. He's resting now, but we don't recommend him heading home for at least two months. We need to monitor him closely for the time being, make sure his lungs and ribs recover the way we need them to.”

 

“What about Arlan?” Lui weakly asks.

 

“He's doing quite alright. There were a few close calls, the two gunshots going through his back and waaaay too close to his lungs. He's lucky, though. Surgery went beautifully and he's going to recover perfectly. Our only concern is how unresponsive he's been since he got here. Though, the rest is probably very needed.”

 

“I want to see them..”

 

“I'm sorry, but.. Until either of them wake up and are deemed stable enough, we can't have any visitors. But, feel free to stay in the waiting room as long as you'd like. I'll be there to let you know when either of the two come around. Sound good?”

 

Lui slowly nods, watching as the nurse turns to leave, almost skipping down the hall when a voice comes over the intercom. Lui's eyes fall to the floor, his hands still trembling beside him.

 

“Do you know who did it?” Evan asks quietly, gently leading Lui towards the waiting room. Lui only shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“The guys said they weren't crew colors... They got high tech cars though..”

 

Evan swallows thickly, lifting his head as they enter the waiting room. There are multiple people inside, a family or two, even a crying child in the corner. They all look so upset, and it makes Evan want to puke. He hates hospitals.

 

Lui mumbles something about needing a cigarette, and Evan nods, following the gang member outside of the hospital. Lui paces slowly a bit away from Evan, cigarette glued between his lips, and Evan takes advantage of the quiet city noise to call Brock.

 

“ _What's going on?”_ Brock asks softly.

 

“Nogla and Droid were shot up pretty bad..” Evan mumbles, leaning against the wall of the hospital. “Lui doesn't know who it was. He says they weren't gang colors, but they had like... Expensive cars.”

 

“ _..Could it have been Terroriser or some of his workers? They had some bangin' cars, right?”_

 

“I really hope not,” Evan sighs, glancing up at Lui. “But I don't doubt it..”

 

“ _Do you guys need anything?”_

 

“I don't know,” Evan sighs, running a hand through his hair. “But I'll text you if we do, okay?”

 

“ _Okay, Ev.. Stay safe.”_

 

Evan gives a small goodbye, hanging up and sliding the phone back into his pocket. This is so completely and utterly _fucked._

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

Lui and Evan were alone together in the waiting room for a long while, but Sark eventually showed up, quietly questioning Lui about everything he knows. Lui could only tell Sark as much as he could Evan, because he honestly has no idea why this would've happened. Sark doesn't push when Lui begins to refuse answering his questions, only giving Lui comforting pats on the back and shoulder.

 

The three sat in the corner of the waiting room for nearly two hours, Evan's legs tucked underneath him with his body leaning against one of the arms of the chair, Lui hugging his own knees to his chest. Sark was often up and down, going out for a nervous cigarette every now and then before returning to sit uncomfortably with the other two. The nurse from before often walked through the waiting room, giving Lui a soft smile each time she did, even offering the three drinks or small snacks. Each time, they politely declined, none of them feeling particularly fit to eat.

 

This time, when she comes into the waiting room, she walks right to Lui, a large smile on her face. In a quiet voice, she tells the three, “David is awake now. We can have you see him if you'd like.”

 

Sark decides to stay behind, and the woman leads Lui and Evan down the open hallway, bringing them into a large room. There are many sounds happening, some of which annoy Evan to no end, and against the wall is a large hospital bed surrounded by various different equipment. She leaves the two be, quietly leading herself out.

 

Nogla is in the bed as expected, an arm draped over his chest softly, eyes opening when he hears the door. He has multiple drips and wires connecting his body to the machines around him, and his face is pale, heavy, dark bags beneath his eyes. He gives a tiny wave to the two, watching Lui make his way to his side, careful to avoid touching any of the equipment. Evan follows, standing on the opposite side, returning the small wave.

 

Nogla takes a slow breath, wincing as he shifts to sit up a bit straighter. “Evan...?”

 

Nogla's voice is rough and quiet, and Evan and Lui share a confused look.

 

“Is Adam really dead?”

 

Evan swallows the lump in his throat, nodding slowly in response. Nogla slowly closes his eyes, letting his head bow as he reaches a hand up to rub at his temple. “But he was a good guy...”

 

“Good guys die, Nogla,” Lui spits, rubbing his hands together nervously. “How are you?”

 

“I feel like shit,” Nogla sighs, leaning back against the bed a bit. “Guess I shoulda seen it comin' though, eh? Turnin' on Terroriser and all that...”

 

Nogla coughs lightly, groaning in pain as he clutches his abdomen. Lui puts a hand on his shoulder softly, frown tugging at his lips. Nogla eventually calms down, relaxing against the bed.

 

“This was Terroriser..?” Lui asks him. Nogla nods, rubbing a hand over his tummy through the hospital blanket.

 

“Wait,” Nogla's eyes suddenly open wide, and he tries to sit up a bit. “Droid! He was with me. Where is he??”

 

“Nogla, calm down!” Lui demands, and Nogla shrinks back a bit, leaning onto the pillows. “He's here.. He's alive. You're both alright.”

 

“He got shot, too?” Nogla whimpers. Lui nods a bit.

 

“You got the worst of it.. But yeah, you both got got..”

 

“Fuck,” Nogla huffs, rubbing a hand gently over his face. A noise at the door draws all three of their attention, and the same nurse slips in, a gentle smile on her face, two small cups in her hands.

 

“Hi, David. I need to give you your medicine, okay?” She smiles.

 

Lui and Evan step away from the bed, watching as she uses the bed remote to help David sit up with more ease, giving him the cup of pills and opening the cup of water. He gulps them down, making disgusted sounds after he's done so. She smiles a bit, glancing around at all of the machines, taking note of all the information they show. “How do you feel?”

 

“Perfect,” Nogla jokes, getting a small laugh from the woman.

 

“The medicine will help a lot with any of your pain. It may make you a bit sleepy, so if you begin to feel tired, go ahead and pass out. It'll be good for you.”

 

“Thank you,” He grumbles, relaxing into the pillow behind him. She turns to Evan and Lui, gesturing for the two to follow her out. They both follow, giving Nogla small pats and what not. Once they're in the hallway, she closes the door, turning to the two.

 

“If you two want, I can take you to Arlan. He's still out, but his vitals are pretty good right now. So if you choose to see him, just know he most likely won't respond to you for a while.”

 

Lui nods, and the nurse smiles, gesturing for the two to follow. Evan follows close behind Lui, eyes glued to the floor so they don't stray around the mess that is a hospital. She pulls them to a stop at one of the doors at the further end of the hallway, opening it and letting the two slip inside.

 

Lui's eyes are immediately glued to Droid, laying in the bed at the end of the room. He doesn't move for a few moments, just stares. He's in generally the same setup as Nogla, but has a respirator over his nose and mouth, arms by his side with his palms towards the ceiling for the iv's in his arms to sit comfortably. The steady beeping of the heart monitor brings a faint chill to Evan, and he ignores it, only shifting his eyes between Droid and Lui.

 

Lui finally moves to Droid's side, placing his hand over Arlan's lightly. He looks completely blank, just staring at all of the cords and machines, lips tugged down in a frown. Evan feels uneasy, and he rubs his hands together, glancing back at the door.

 

“I'm gonna meet up with Sark.. You take a minute, okay?” He asks Lui quietly. Lui nods, leaving Evan to quietly exit the room and take a deep breath.

 

Sark sends Evan home after the owl fills him in, and Evan reluctantly agrees with him, taking himself back home. He thinks about all the things that have been going wrong, all of the heartbreak and the violence, and he wants to sob. It's like an extremely horrible nightmare, one that he's gotten himself trapped in, and he can't wait to wake up. He can't wait to get home, open the door to his room and see a unicorn dancing in the corner, just to confirm that it's all some fucked up dream.

 

But when he enters his bedroom, he sees no unicorns. There's no dancing or excited feelings. There's only a dark room, with a body snuggled underneath the sheets of the bed. Evan stays by the door for a moment, waiting, just _waiting_ for something to wake him up, but it never does. He quickly gives up, kicking his shoes off of his feet, not bothering with undressing himself as he crawls into the bed slowly. Brock stirs a bit, but is still silently asleep, back to Evan as he dreams of something nice (or, at least, Evan hopes he dreams of something nice).

 

Evan, however, never quite falls asleep, and only focuses on the breathing of the person beside him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ????? okay so im like so close to finishing this fanfic omg ksdfnkjnsadf im not even ready. 
> 
> i'm also working on two short fanfics on the side of this one that im hoping to have finished *before* this one is completely done, but knowing me that might not happennnn. But they're both gonna be connected to this fanfic fully, so if you ever just want extra shit to read, stay tuned for news about those two ;DDD
> 
> i plan on having dirty job completed by tonight (june 6 lmao), and in which case, i'll just post everything daily. and then the fanfiction will be over. honestly, i'll probably cry ;c but we'll see how that goes when we get there :0
> 
> see you guys tomorrow hopefully <33


	36. Last Kill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE HAVE ANOTHER HORRIBLY PUT TOGETHER CHAPTER BECAUSE YUP
> 
> ALSO SORRY
> 
> AND I HOPE YE ENJOY

Evan sinks himself deeper into the couch, huge blanket wrapped tight around him, his legs tucked underneath him. He squints intently out the large glass door, just watching. He can see the clouds from where he sits, still lingering over the City like they have the past month, threatening to drop snow across them at any second. Why is he staring? He doesn't know. He's bored, he's tired. He doesn't want to sleep anymore, too scared that something might happen if he does. He wants to be awake now.

 

The house is quiet again, like it seems to have been for the past few days. Marcel, Craig, and Tyler have left the building, deciding to go visit Droid and Nogla now that they're able to. Marcel was very eager to see the two, practically dragging the couple out the door with him early in the morning.

 

Droid has finally woken up. It wasn't too long after Evan had left, maybe by an hour. He was confused and in a lot of pain according to Sark's texts, but other than that, Arlan was just fine. Just like Nogla, he claims the attack was Terroriser, which brought the mutual agreement over everyone that it had to be the Kingpin's work.

 

Evan isn't scared of Terroriser anymore, he's realized. The more he thinks about it, and the more he contemplates why Terroriser is doing all of this, the more impatient he becomes with waiting for Terroriser to find him. It would be easier for everyone else. Terroriser wouldn't throw any more tantrums, wouldn't go after people who don't need to be hurt. It would bring everything back to the way it was, before the Canal Job. It would be _happier._

 

But Brock doesn't want Evan gone.

 

The shuffling of slippers snaps Evan out of his thoughts, and he turns his head, watching Brock stumble into the living room with his pajamas still on. He smiles at the little ball Evan has made himself into, pressing a soft kiss onto the top of the owl's messy hair when he passes by the couch to get to the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”

 

“No thank you,” Evan replies, pulling the blanket up further to bury the lower portion of his face into. Eyes still glued outside, he listens to Brock shuffle around the kitchen, leaning against the other when Brock eventually sits next to him. “How far do you think he's gonna go?”

 

“What?” Brock replies, looking down at Evan, still curled up beside him.

 

“Terroriser. How far do you think he'll go with all of this?”

 

Brock sighs a bit, pulling Evan a bit closer to put a protective arm around him. Evan lets his eyes close, finding comfort in the closeness of the two. “Please, let your mind have a break today, Evan.. I know there's a lot going on, but you're gonna make yourself sick.”

 

Evan bites his tongue. He knows Brock is right, he _knows._ But the questions never stop buzzing around in his mind, never stop nagging at him. It gives him a headache, and he wishes he could just turn off his mind and sit in complete silence. Instead of answering Brock, he just turns towards the other, softly nuzzling his face into the older's shoulder. Brock gives another soft kiss to the top of his head, and Evan relaxes under Brock's arm, eyes falling closed once again.

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

The three have been gone nearly all day, not returning from their hospital trip until just after seven in the afternoon. They brought home dinner from their usual Chinese takeout place, the five sitting around in the dining room as they ate. Evan was able to eventually clear his mind after his tiny talk with Brock that morning, and now that he's beginning to feel a bit better, he's _starving._ He gulps down his takeout as he listens to the others talk, deciding that he needs to get out of the house once he's finished. He knows going out is getting dangerous now, but he couldn't care less anymore. If something happens to him, it happens, and that's how it's gonna be. But even with that mindset, Evan still stuffs his pistol in the back of his waistband, flipping his shirt down to cover it.

 

Brock doesn't stop Evan from going out, but he makes sure that Evan has his phone with him. If anything happens, he wants Evan to call him. He wants to be sure he's alright.

 

Evan takes himself to Del Perro. It's been too long since he's been there alone, soaking in the ocean breeze. With the winter still technically on them, and the sun down, it's rather chilly, but Evan loves it. He can even faintly see his breath.

 

He spends a lot of his time alone thinking over the past few months. How everything has fallen out of place. How dangerous this game has become. He never meant for their Crew to get this deep into something, but now that they have, he regrets every second of their crew work. He feels sorry for his friends, and most sorry for Chilled. He wasn't even going against Terroriser, per say. But still, the Kingpin's difficult actions took a hold of him. It upsets Evan to no end, and the more he thinks about it, the emptier he begins to feel.

 

He walks towards the Pier, weaving himself between the large wooden columns that hold up the structures above. Because of how late it is, there are no people on the Pier, no one drinking or riding the rollercoaster. It's completely quiet, aside from the waves, and Evan sighs. It's peaceful here, which is most likely why it's Evan's absolute favorite chill out spo--

 

“Hoo, hoo~”

 

Evan freezes in his tracks, and he refuses to turn around.

 

“Hoooo, hooooooooo~”

 

Evan shakes his head. He isn't even sure if what he's hearing is real, or if it's all just his mind playing cruel tricks on him. He doesn't want to find out, slowly scooting himself closer to the wooden column he's next to. A tight hand around his upper arm only proves his fears of the noises being real, and something hard and cold presses against his back. He doesn't dare move, only closes his eyes tight, preparing for the pain of a lifetime.

 

But it never comes.

 

“Are you scared, Vanoss?” Delirious' voice asks from behind him, grin very obvious in his words. Evan's heart stops, and he stays completely silent, biting his tongue hard. Delirious makes a disappointed humming sound. “What's the matter, cat got your tongue?”

 

“Get the fuck away from me,” Evan manages to speak, only getting a chuckle from behind him.

 

“I just wanna talk, Vanoss! What are you all upset about?”

 

Evan finally dares to move, ripping his arm away from Delirious' tight grip, spinning around to face the other as he takes multiple steps away. Delirious surprisingly lets him go, mask attached to his belt, face completely void of makeup, a dark smirk spread across his lips. There's a short shotgun in his hand, but his finger is no where near the trigger, barrel still pointed right at Evan. It takes Evan a few moments to find his words.

 

“I don't want to talk to you,” He spits. “I want you gone.”

 

“Cold, baby,” Delirious pouts. Evan's eyes narrow at the other, rage bubbling in his stomach. Jonathan is just toying with him. “Why can't I just have one last little talk with you?”

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Evan asks cautiously. The smirk spreads across Jonathan's face again.

 

“Haven't you heard?” He asks innocently. “Terroriser got rid of me. After I paid Nanners and his little runaway boyfriend a visit, he fired me, sent me on my way. And since then, you've been _Free Game.._ ”

 

The way the last few words spill from Delirious' lips makes Evan want to vomit. He's dying tonight. This is the end. It's all over.

 

Evan takes another few steps back, but Delirious takes more steps toward the owl, trapping him against one of the support beams. “Back the fuck off, Delirious.”

 

“What's wrong, Vanoss? Can't even say my name anymore? Scared you that good?”

 

“ _Scared me??_ You're fucking ruining _everything!_ This isn't me being scared, this is me fucking hating every inch of you, because you can't just get the fuck away from me. I'm not kidding anymore when I say I'll put a fucking bullet through your skull right now. You've crossed us too many times.”

 

“Then do it~” Delirious coos, grip tightening on his shotgun.

 

Evan's frozen in place, glaring at the person in front of him. He hates this, he hates all the toying with his fucking head. He knows Delirious will shoot him if he moves. This is all just him trying to bait Evan into fucking himself. But Evan knows whether it happens now or ten minutes from now, he's completely fucked. He's unfit to properly defend himself right now, and Delirious must know it. He's so sleep deprived, his reactions are no doubt going to be slow.

 

But Evan needs to prove him wrong.

 

The second Delirious lifts the shotgun, Evan dashes to the side, ears ringing at the loud gunshot that sends wood chippings flying everywhere. He keeps multiple columns between the two, snatching his own gun from his waistband. He presses himself against one of the columns, keeping himself hidden as he shivers at the cackling that comes from Delirious' mouth.

 

_This is all a nightmare._

 

Delirious suddenly slides into view, shotgun trained on Evan, and Evan dashes again, flinching at the loud sound again. He stays behind another column, doing his best to keep his breathing steady. Why is Delirious doing this??

 

_This isn't real._

 

Evan only hears Delirious' feet padding in the sand this time, dashing out of the way once he hears him, but there's a sharp pain in his hip and leg, sending Evan stumbling to the ground. He quickly scrambles to one of the columns Delirious had previously taken a chunk out of, hissing at the pain that throbs through his body. He dares to look down, swallowing thickly at the multiple spots of blood beginning to grow on his right hip, upper thigh, and waist. It burns unbearably, and the sight of the blood makes Evan want to cower, but he can't. He knows he can't.

 

Blue catches his eye and his head bolts up. Delirious has his shotgun towards the ground, and he's watching Vanoss, a large grin on his face. Evan's frozen in fear, but a sudden jolt in his mind has him lifting his gun, finger on the trigger, and he holds his breath.

 

_One._

 

_Two._

 

_Three shots._

 

Delirious just stands there, a small gasp escaping his lips, and he takes a step back. Three dots of blood begin soaking the chest of his shirt. Evan freezes again, eyes wide in shock. What did he just do...

 

Jonathan begins coughing, dropping his shotgun as he falls back onto his rear, a hand desperately clutching at the wounds. He's choking every few seconds, backing up slowly until his back hits one of the supports.

 

_Wake up..._

 

Ignoring the pain that shoots through him, he scrambles towards Jonathan, leaving his gun behind. He gets to Jonathan's side, staring down at the blood, hands beginning to tremble. He shot Jonathan. Oh, fuck, he shot Jonathan.

 

“J-Jonathan, shit.. J-Jon..” Evan stammers, pressing a hand against one of the wounds. “J-Just chill, okay? I'll call for someone, and--”

 

“No!” Jonathan yelps in a broken voice. Evan shrinks back, staring at the bleeding man in front of him. Tears are falling from Delirious' eyes now, choked sobs coming from his lips every few seconds. “Just fucking leave it! I don't want your help..”

 

_Wake up..!_

 

“Jonathan..” Evan repeats, quieter this time. Tears are filling his own eyes, and it seems all of the horrible things that Delirious has done to him disappear from his mind, and all the beautiful memories of the good times they used to have flood his mind in their place. Jonathan is dying now, and it's because of Evan. He thought this was what he wanted, but now that it's happening, Evan wants to rewind time and let Delirious finish him himself.

 

Jonathan just shakes his head, glancing at the small spots of blood on Evan's shirt. He reaches over, using a finger to lift the owl's shirt just a bit, giving him view of the new injuries he's created, and the scar of the first shot Delirious took at him. Evan doesn't move, only watches Jonathan closely. His fingers move under the shirt, and they press lightly into the scar that he gave Evan. Evan tenses up a bit.

 

“I didn't do it for the money,” Jonathan says the best he can, running his finger down the small scar. “I'm so sorry, Evan...”

 

Jonathan's face falls a bit, eyes slowly closing. His hand slowly loses it's pressure on the skin, and lands softly in Evan's lap. Evan rapidly shakes his head, blabbering nonsense quietly as he lifts his hands from Jonathan's chest, cupping his face as he tries to get Jonathan to look at him. “Jonathan, no please!! Stay awake, okay?? Jonathan!”

 

The choked pants cease coming from Delirious' lips, and Jonathan stops responding to Evan. Evan tries, more than he probably should, to get Delirious to say something, and he never does.

 

_Wake up!!_

 

The sudden realization of his situation hits Evan full force, and he almost screams, scrambling backwards until he hits roughly into a column. His side burns, and he stares at the corpse ahead of him. He can't help the sobs that force their way through his throat, trembling hands shooting up to bury themselves in his hair, gripping the locks lightly as he covers his ears. Jonathan is dead, by a bullet that Evan shot. Actually, by _three_ bullets that Evan shot. Delirious' blood is _literally_ on his hands right now, and no doubt smudging on his ears and the sides of his face.

 

He just sits there, sobbing as he stares, eventually squeezing his eyes closed tight and bowing his head. He doesn't know how long he sits there, but he raises his head soon, slowly taking his hands from his head. The pain is still burning in his side, and he knows he needs to get help. He grabs his phone, dropping it when he re-realizes the blood on his palms. He whimpers, doing his best to ignore the red as he grabs his phone again, shakily dialing Sark. The older is quick to answer.

 

“ _Yeah, kiddo?”_ He asks sleepily.

 

“Sark, I.. I fucked up..” Evan chokes out, another sob escaping his lips.

 

“ _Evan?? What the hell is going on?”_

 

“I killed Jonathan!” Evan hiccups, burying his face in his free hand.

 

“ _Evan, where are you?”_ Sark asks firmly.

 

“Under the pier... Sark, I got shot..”

 

“ _Evan, stay calm, okay? I'm on my way. Don't fucking close your eyes.”_

 

Evan hangs the phone up, leaning back against the column once again. He glances down at his own wounds, hissing when he goes to sit up straighter. It doesn't feel as bad as it did before, but the pain is still definitely there, making him want to curl up and sob.

 

It's not long before he hears someone calling for him. He looks around, feeling a wave of relief wash over him when he sees Sark rushing towards him. He eventually sees Delirious' body, stumbling a bit as he stares. Sark rips his eyes away, quickly moving over to crouch next to Evan. Evan whimpers when Sark tries to gently pull him up, wrapping one of the owl's arms around his shoulders to give him support. He snatches up both the shotgun and the pistol, leading Evan away and to his own SUV, not saying a word to the owl.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH SO STUFF HAPPENED OKAY SORRY BOUT THAT????
> 
> this fanfiction is literally spiraling downhill s o f a s t send help guys
> 
> also i 100% didnt finish any of what i said but daily posts anyway lmao xux


	37. Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i 100% suck at schedules im sorry i love you guys
> 
> i'll just give updates in the end note, and as always, i hope ye enjoy! <3

“Here, Evan...”

 

Sark gently helps Evan into the living room, lowering the owl onto the couch, apologizing quietly when Evan hisses a bit in pain. Sark looks around the quiet house, huffing when he sees none of the other roommates, quickly shuffling himself up the stairs to get Mini.

 

Evan already knows what Mini is going to ask of him first, so he slowly peels his jacket and shirt from his body, haphazardly tossing the clothing over the back of the couch. His pants are uncomfortably attached to his thigh, drawing a faint whimper from him when he goes to remove them. He eventually gives up, relaxing back into the couch as he hears different sets of footsteps thumping down the stairs. Glancing to the hallway, he sees Mini, Tyler and Sark approaching, Mini shaking his head a bit when his eyes fall on Evan.

 

“What the hell, Ev?” He groans, gesturing for Evan to lay down. Evan slowly does what he wants, wincing at the small movements while he lays back. “Tyler, can you get me stuff?”

 

“Uhhh,” Tyler hums, looking around. Mini groans again.

 

“Go get Brock, then,” Mini orders.

 

“Please don't,” Evan says quietly, draping his arms over his face. “He doesn't need to be bothered.”

 

“Yes, he does, Evan. His boyfriend got shot.” Mini gestures Tyler towards the stairs, rushing himself to the kitchen to retrieve a damp towel. Evan groans into his arms. He doesn't want Brock to look at him right now. He doesn't want _anyone_ to look at him.

 

“Sark, what's gonna happen to him?” Evan croaks, slowly lowering his arms. Sark frowns a bit, walking closer to Evan.

 

“I'm gonna get some guys to go get his body, maybe try to stage something. Evan, don't worry about--”

 

“Don't worry about it??” Evan scoffs. “I just fucking-”

 

“ **Evan.** ”

 

Evan freezes at the commanding tone in Sark's voice, turning his head away to avoid looking at him. Mini soon returns, giving Evan little warning before he starts patting at the small wounds, ridding them of the blood around them. Evan hisses a bit, his body tensing up at the small shooting pains.

 

Evan has the overwhelming urge to cry again. He knows exactly why he wants to, exactly why he feels like shit. He does his best to just forget the last hour of his life, but the more he tries, the worse he feels. For so long, he thought he wanted Jonathan dead for everything he's put Evan and his friends through. But after doing it, he's never regretted something more. And he _hates_ it. He'd even go as far as to say he hates _himself._

 

Brock's concerned voice rips him from his thoughts, and his head darts up, eyes darting around for the older. Brock walks around the couch, one of the spare medical kits in his hands, a frown pulling his lips down. Evan can't help the small whimper that escapes his throat, or the tears that begin to fill his eyes. Brock passes the kit to Mini, crouching next to Evan and letting the owl grip his hand tightly. Mini shoo's Tyler and Sark from the living room quietly, putting the kit on the table and sorting through it.

 

“You're okay, Evan..” Brock tells him quietly. Evan only shakes his head, unable to form coherent sentences to explain to Brock how much he's fucked up. “Stop, okay? We're gonna fix you up, and you can get some sleep, and we can talk whenever you feel like it..”

 

Evan slowly nods, making a small pained noise when Craig begins poking around, examining the multiple scattered gashes.

 

“Evan, can we get your pants off?” Mini asks. Evan groans a bit, working his jeans the rest of the way off of his legs, tossing them over the back of the couch with his shirt. Mini goes back to looking through the wounds, reaching behind him to grab a pair of gloves. “Evan, how far away was the person who shot you?”

 

“I don't know,” Evan croaks quietly. “I was running..”

 

“That makes sense,” Mini shrugs. “These aren't very deep, so they didn't do a lot of damage.. That being said, they'll probably do more hurt coming out than they did going in.”

 

Evan whines pitifully, draping his arms over his face again. “We could take you to the hospital, if you'd rather.”

 

“God, no,” Evan grumbles. “Please, just... Lets get this over with..”

 

Mini nods in response, moving to the kitchen to get his things ready. Evan is noticeably nervous; tapping his fingers against the couch and his chest, legs shifting uncomfortably every few seconds. Brock is petting his hair softly, shushing Evan whenever he makes concerned hums. This is the second time Evan's been shot, so the pain isn't too worrying. But with his first wound, he was out before he made it to the hospital, so he never felt any of the surgery or stitching. But now, with trying to avoid hospitals the best he can, he's going to feel every little poke and prod.

 

Evan watches Mini as the lad returns, still looking through the things he's holding, a pair of tweezers being one of them. He takes a deep breath, and Brock smiles softly, giving him a light kiss on the forehead.

 

“Just squeeze my hand, okay?” Brock advises. “It helps. I could barely feel it when we did this at Ponsonby's.”

 

Evan groans a bit at the sudden deja vu. Yup, Vangelico all over again. How delightful.

 

“Ready, Ev?” Mini asks, kneeling next to him. Evan nods a bit. “I'm gonna have to go in at least four of these to get shit out, and then probably stitch these four up. So... I'll send Tyler to get some pain medicine.”

 

“Cool,” Evan whimpers sarcastically.

 

Evan didn't think it would hurt as much as it did. He thought he had a high pain tolerance, but every twist of the tweezers, every pinch of the needle as Mini sewed him up, Evan had to resist the urge to squirm, He tried as hard as he could to not claw up Brock's hand, just squeezing and holding on tight each time he felt necessary. Brock didn't seem to mind the grabs, even using his free hand to give comforting pats to Evan's head every now and then. How did Brock get through this without absolutely _dying_ in pain?

 

It feels like hours before Mini is done, taking a deep breath and giving a comforting pat to Evan's stomach. Evan takes his own deep, shaky breath, once again covering his face with his arm.

 

“Please, don't try to move a lot for a while. These stitches are in an inconvenient place, to say the least. Don't want to pull them out or anything... I'll check on them in a week.” Mini flashes Evan a small smile, working on cleaning up the stray trash and taking them to the kitchen to dispose of them. Brock leans over Evan, giving him another soft kiss to the forehead once the owl moves his arm.

 

“I'll get you some loose clothes,” Brock tells him, waiting until Evan releases his hand before standing, quickly taking himself out of the room. Evan very slowly pulls himself up to sitting, hand rubbing soft circles in the areas around the stitches. His entire body feels numb aside from the wounds themselves, and the dull throbbing that's pounding in the back of Evan's head. He closes his eyes, slowly leaning himself back into the couch.

 

Mini moves past Evan and to the hallway where Sark and Tyler are, and not too long afterwards, Brock returns to the younger, pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt in his hands. Evan accepts them, letting Brock help him balance as he pulls the clothing onto his body.

 

“Brock?” Sark says from the hallway. Brock turns his head, furrowing his brows when Sark gestures for him to come over. He gives Evan a small stroke on his cheek before moving out to the hallway with the shopkeeper.

 

Evan watches the four in the hallway, Sark keeping his voice too low for Evan to be able to hear. By the way his roommates faces are twisting in both confusion and horror, he can only assume Sark is explaining to them what an awful person Evan is. He's probably telling them all about how he put a few fucking bullets through Jonathan's chest with hardly any hesitation or second thoughts. God, they're probably disgusted by him. They're probably thinking of how to start avoiding the owl from now on.

 

Evan rips his eyes away from the group, closing them tight as he bows his head and presses his palms into his temples. His shoulders jump faintly as he lets out a few silent sobs, the tears falling into his lap. _Fuck you,_ he thinks to himself. _You could've just let him end this fucking game. What's wrong with you?_

 

There's hands on his shoulders, giving him a few squeezes. If the person in front of him is saying anything, he doesn't hear it. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against the person's stomach lightly, and one of their hands moves to rest on his head gently. He doesn't know who he's leaning into, but at this moment, he couldn't care less. He just needs _some sort_ of comfort.

 

“Come on, Ev..” Sark's voice rips through his thoughts, and the hand on the back of his head moves to his shoulder once more, gently leading the owl to sitting back against the couch. He looks up at the older through the tears, shrinking back at the feeling of everyone looking down at him. “Do you want me to stay? Or do you want me to go help with...”

 

Sark trails off, but Evan understands. He shrugs lazily, turning his head away. “I don't care either way..” He mumbles. Sark nods a bit, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder.

 

“I'm gonna leave you to Brock.. I'll call you if something comes up. And you need to call me if you need anything else, alright? I'll get your car back here tomorrow.”

 

Evan only nods a bit.

 

Sark exchanges a few more light words with the others before eventually departing, leaving the crew alone. Evan can hear Mini giving Tyler instructions on what sort of medicines he needs to pick up, even giving his significant other a small list before sending him out as well. Brock tries to convince Evan to come wait upstairs until Tyler gets back, but Evan refuses, not wanting to climb the stairs in his condition. Brock eventually gives in, getting the owl pillows and blankets from their room and making the younger as comfortable as he can.

 

Once Evan is filled with various medications, he's out quick, leaning into the soft pets on his head that Brock is giving him while he sits on the floor next to Evan.

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

Evan wakes up with a jerk, hearing an echoing gunshot from his dreams. There's a pain that shoots through his body as he jumps, and he hisses through his teeth, slowly moving to lay flat on his back. There are small tears at the corners of his eyes, and he wipes them away with the back of his hand slowly.

 

He sits up, using the back of the couch to pull himself up. It's quiet, and he, for once, gets extremely uncomfortable with it. With nothing to distract him, all of the words and noises from his night at the Pier echo through his head. He lets out a shaky breath, but he can't cry anymore; he's done it too much for it to feel like any sort of release for him.

 

He glances outside, watching as snow lightly falls from the clouds. He moves carefully to his feet, wincing a bit at the pain that shoots through his midsection and leg. He ignores it for the most part, groaning quietly as he pushes the glass door open and moves outside.

 

He sits right on the ground, snow surrounding his body, and he just sits there. Any of the snow that lands on his hands melts almost immediately, leaving him with small spots of water scattering his skin. He becomes numb after a while of sitting there, but even then, he doesn't move. He doesn't want to feel anything anymore. Being frozen is just perfect.

 

There's a weight on his shoulders, and he turns, watching as Brock drapes a soft blanket over the owl. Evan doesn't say anything, just watches as the other sits on the ground next to him, his own coat wrapped tight around his body. Evan turns forward again, choosing to stay quiet until Brock wants him.

 

And after a few moments, he does.

 

“Evan...” Brock says quietly. Evan doesn't move. “I want you to talk to me.. Please..”

 

“There's nothing to say,” He replies quietly.

 

“Evan,” Brock sighs. “Please...”

 

Evan bites his tongue. There's lot he could tell Brock, but it all gets caught in his throat. He doesn't want to speak of it anymore. He doesn't want to be reminded of the events that took place last night. The memories make him want to puke, rip his hair out of head, throw a fit. He feels like such a fucking child, but he doesn't care anymore. He just wants the fucking feelings and memories out of his head.

 

Brock turns his head away from Evan, obviously disappointed at the owl's choice of actions. Evan feels a strange drop of guilt in his stomach as he watches the other, and he slowly scoots until their arms and legs are pressed lightly against each other. Brock glances at him, smiling softly when Evan nuzzles his face into the area between Brock's neck and shoulder. He doesn't want Brock feeling like shit because Evan himself is, so he's trying. Trying to seem like the lovable, goodhearted boyfriend he should be, and probably would be if none of this shit happened. Brock appreciates it obviously, leaning gently into the small touch, letting an arm rest in Evan's lap.

 

Being as close to Brock as he is, he can feel the small shivers that run through Brock's body every now and then, and he slips the blanket from his shoulders, wrapping it snugly around the older. “You could always go inside if you're cold.”

 

“Only if you come with,” Brock replies, getting soft smile from the other.

 

They sit in silence for a while, giving Evan the chance to shift through everything in his mind. He leans against Brock again, keeping his head laid lightly on his shoulder. With a deep breath, he gathers his thoughts, speaking into Brock's skin quietly.

 

“I didn't want to do it,” Evan says. “I.. Didn't think when I did it.. When I shot him.. and I want to go back.. to before I moved out of the way of his shot... And I don't want to move..”

 

“Evan,” Brock mumbles in disbelief, worry dripping from his words.

 

“Can you help me?” Evan asks softly. Brock raises an eyebrow, watching the owl. “Jonathan.. Before he.. _Left._ He told me that it wasn't for money.... But I don't know what else he could've done it for..”

 

Brock's eyes trail downwards to Evan's hand, which has started rubbing over where Evan's first bullet wound was, and the older frowns. He reaches over, lightly wrapping his fingers around Evan's wrist, gently leading Evan's hand away from the scar. Brock shakes his head softly to the owl, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “I don't think I can help you... But please, this is one of those things you can't linger on... It's over, now. He can't hurt you anymore, Evan.”

 

Evan only shrugs, eyes glued to their hands. He's silent for a few moments, thinking over everything he's been through the past week.

 

“Brock, if I were gone.. If I give myself up.. Everything will be okay, right?” He asks, not really expecting a response. “I mean.. If I let Brian kill me, he'd stop all of this.. Everything will be fine.”

 

Brock quickly turns, letting the blanket drop from around him as he reaches up, cupping Evan's face gently. Evan closes his mouth, staring at Brock with dull eyes. Brock looks so _shattered_ now, just staring at the owl with a mix of heartbreak and fear.

 

“Evan..” He finally says. “Please, don't talk like that.. You dying isn't going to fix any of this..”

 

“You just don't want me gone.”

 

Evan sucks in a deep breath after he realized what he's said, snapping his mouth shut quickly. Brock slowly takes his hands from Evan's face, nodding a bit after a silent moment. “Wait, Brock, I didn't mean for that to sound bad or anything, I just..”

 

Evan huffs a bit, wrapping his arms tight around Brock's shoulders, pulling the older in for a close hug. Brock is quick to slink his arms around Evan's waist, and the two stay locked together for several moments. The hug feels strangely distant, in some way. It only makes Evan hold on tighter to the other, but it doesn't fix a thing.

 

Maybe it's because Evan's already made up his mind, and Brock knows he can't make him change it. He doesn't want to change it. He wants everyone to be happy.

 

And this will fix it all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO YEAH
> 
> working on the last chapter as we speak, then I need to work on three different little stories to go along with this, so i apologize if those three are a bit late. I'm trying to make them absolutely fuckin /perfect/ (and im failing greatly lmao help). one of those stories will be posted WITH this one, the other two are gonna be posted separately, idk if you guys even really care, but just. yeah. heads up. also, posting schedule? no clue. i'll probably end up accidentally posting like two chapters in like 1 hour at some point idek im so unorganized fml
> 
> see you guys next chapter <3


	38. The Last Time He'll Say Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so many things are happeningggggggg. one of them happens to be that this horrible thing has made it to 200 kudos (actually its over 200 but i forgot to address it when it happened lmao)!!! thank you guys a lot, i really appreciate how many of you guys like this story. i honestly feel like its so badly done, so just the fact that any of you like it is amazing.
> 
> other than that, this story is like, one chapter away from done. except the last chapter is gonna be hella long. so. ???????? im actually really upset it's ending, but hey, new adventuressssss.
> 
> the other side fics that i have lined up to go with this one have been sadly slept on as i have been super distracted with finishing this fic, so they're gonna be a bit late ;c A+ to meeeeee
> 
> ALSO SORRY I'VE KINDA BEEN NOT REPLYING TO THE COMMENTSSSS, ive been really lame and not having too too much time to reply to them ;c but i do ready them all dont worry ;v;
> 
> okay okayokay anyway and as always, i hope ye enjoy~ <3

Evan slowly closes the door to the small office behind him, quietly locking it as he does so.

 

The room is so quiet, giving Evan that sense of being alone and away from the group, but still letting him be near the others. It's strangely relaxing, and he slowly takes a seat in the rolling chair, eyes closed tight in pain as he does so.

 

He has his phone in his hands, just tapping his fingers against it every so often, staring at it as he turns it in his hands. He needs to just call him. He needs to get it over with.

 

He slowly dials Terroriser, putting the phone to his ear. His stomach rolls at each of the rings, and his entire body tenses as the ringing stops.

 

“ _Please don't tell me you're just calling to brag about how much of a big kid you are for killing Delirious,”_ the sharp voice comes from the other end. Evan closes his eyes tight.

 

“You want me dead, right? You wanna put a fucking bullet through my head? Just give me a date and location.”

 

There's a pause, then a deep chuckle from the other end. _“Is this your late Christmas present to me, Vanoss? You on a silver platter? My, I have to say, I feel quite honored..”_

 

“Don't act so fucking high and mighty,” Evan spits sourly.

 

“ _But I'm just so excited to splatter your brains all over the wall! But I think I wanna play around a bit before I do.. Rough you up a bit.”_

 

“You're sick,” Evan growls, running a hand through his hair slowly.

 

“ _Oh, definitely,”_ Brian laughs. _“You've taken a beating before, I'm sure you can do it again.”_

 

Evan holds back the urge to groan loudly. “Just tell me what to do, dude..”

 

“ _I'm gonna be busy for a few days, so... How about Friday night? You can come to the place you decided to steal your little MooMoo and one of my fucking workers, yeah? It seems like a nice sight to be your last, don't you think?”_

 

“Whatever, man,” Evan shakes his head, and shivers at the predatory cackle from the other end.

 

“ _See you in a few days, Vanoss. Oh, and I don't think I need to tell you how unfortunate it would be if you back out of this last minute, do I?”_

 

“No,” Evan responds.

 

“ _Good,”_ Brian replies. With that, the phonecall ends, and Evan lets his phone drop into his lap.

 

 _Three days,_ Evan thinks to himself. _Great._

 

He slowly opens the office door, shuffling around the first floor of the house until he finds Brock. He's in the dining room, sitting with Mini at the table, talking quietly about something Evan doesn't know the details of. He gives him a small tap on the shoulder, and Brock turns around, smiling up at him.

 

“Can we talk?” Evan says after a deep breath. Brock nods, standing from his spot and following Evan back to the office. Evan closes the door once the two are inside, standing and facing the door silently for a few seconds after. _Just tell him._

 

“Ev?” Brock asks. Evan takes another deep breath, slowly turning to face the older.

 

“I'm sorry, Brock...” Evan manages to say quietly. Brock's face twists with confusion. “I called Terroriser, and... Friday..”

 

Brock's face immediately soaks with panic at the mere mention of Terroriser, and he scrambles to find his words. “Wait, what?? Evan, you're kidding! You didn't actually...”

 

Brock trails off after seeing Evan just standing there, making no moves to agree with his boyfriends hopeful blabbering. Brock shakes his head again, grabbing at Evan's hands desperately, pulling them up to his own chest and holding them close to his body. “Please, Evan, you have to call him and cancel it or _something!_ You can't do this-”

 

“I can't turn back,” Evan says quietly with a shake of his head. He refuses to look at Brock; he knows how sad he must look. “I'm sorry, Brock.. I have to.. Everyone needs to be okay.”

 

“We aren't gonna be okay without you, Evan, why don't you understand that??” Brock raises his voice a bit, letting to of Evan's hands. Evan pulls his hands away from the other, folding his arms over his chest slowly. “You were the one who brought us all together.. We _need you,_ Evan.. Please...”

 

Evan doesn't respond, just keeps his head turned away. There's a tear that falls down his cheek, and he's quick to wipe it away. He knew Brock would be upset, but he also knew he needed to tell him. Brock needed to know his decision, if it's what he wanted or not. It truly hurts Evan, hearing Brock's shaking voice, and hearing the tears obviously trying to rip through the older. He hates this feeling, but it won't last too long.

 

There's a few tense moments of silence, and Brock slips past Evan quickly, leaving Evan alone in the office. Being alone, Evan doesn't mind letting his emotions overwhelm him, and he carefully slides down the wall and to the floor, a quiet sob escaping his throat. He already misses all of his friends, and he's still three days from his death. He buries his face in his hands, palms getting soaked in tears, and all he can think to himself is _Please understand I'm doing this for you guys.._

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

Evan's kept himself stored away in the office ever since he and Brock had their little talk, and not once did anyone come to check on him. Until now, of course.

 

The office door swings open, and Evan jumps a bit, jumping even more when there's a hand slapped onto the desk in front of him. His eyes follow the hand up and to the person's face, and he's confused to see Lui standing there, Sark right behind him.

 

“What the fuck is your deal?” Lui spits. Evan doesn't say a word, only turns his head away, earning angered groans from the two. The chair he's in is suddenly quickly spun around, and Sark's hands are grabbing the armrests firmly, his face coming in maybe a foot from Evan's. Evan shrinks back immediately. If there's anyone that can scare Evan more than Terroriser, it's definitely Sark.

 

“You're selfish.” The shopkeeper's eyes narrow when Evan opens his mouth to argue, so Evan quickly shuts it. “I don't care if you're trying to look after your crew. Giving yourself up to Terroriser is just going to fuel his fucking ego. He's gonna keep coming back after you're gone. He's a damned filthy liar, Vanoss, and you fucking know it. And you're gonna be filthy right back, whether you like it or not.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Evan asks quietly, not trusting his voice to stay steady under the intimidating glare of the older.

 

“You're gonna set him up.”

 

“Like hell I am!” Evan immediately opposes, gulping when he sees Sark's grip get tighter around the arms of the chair. “N-No! I understand you're just trying to help, but this could fucking get _everyone_ killed! So fuck that!”

 

Sark points a finger right in Evan's face, and the younger flinches, half expecting to be struck, half just wanting to get further away from the anger in front of him. “Shut it. You're a fucking pessimist, Evan. You need to learn to have some fucking faith in yourself and your team. Because being this far in this fucking game, we're the only ones you have now. And you're the only one we have. What's a crew without a leader?”

 

Evan tries to shake his head, but Sark grabs a hold of his jaw, firm yet soft, and makes Evan look at him. “Answer me. What is a crew without a fucking leader?”

 

“Nothing,” Evan says nervously, tensing at the contact. Sark drops his hand from Evan's face, returning it to the arm rest.

 

“Right. So, what do you think we should do?”

 

Evan thinks for a moment, swallowing thickly. “Take out... Terroriser..”

 

“Good,” Sark says slowly. “Take out the leader, and anyone that could take his place.”

 

“Gassy and Ohm..?” Evan asks cautiously. A smile spreads Sark's lips a bit as he nods to the owl.

 

“Are you going to listen to the plan, or are you just going to fucking give yourself up and let yourself be surprised by our little adventure?”

 

Evan thinks through his choices for a moment, but he ultimately believes he doesn't really have a choice. “I'll listen...”

 

Sark finally stands up, giving the owl space, and Evan takes a deep breath. Sark turns to Lui, crossing his arms over his chest. “Get Brock. This isn't gonna be a big get together. Just him.”

 

Lui does what he's told and leaves the office. Evan's eyes are glued to Sark, watching for any other angered moves towards him. The older looks down at Evan, frowning at how scared Evan must look.

 

“Sometimes, being nice to you doesn't get through,” He speaks, extremely soft compared to his previous voice. He reaches out, ruffling Evan's hair in the slightest. Evan doesn't pull away this time, but he turns his eyes away from the other. “You know I'm trying to do what's best for you, Evan.”

 

“This isn't best,” Evan mumbles defiantly. Sark squints down at him, but Evan keeps his head turned away.

 

Lui returns to the office, Brock trailing close behind. Evan's head darts up to look at Brock, and all he wants to do is apologize to the other. He doesn't know what for, exactly, but he really does. Sark doesn't give him the chance to.

 

“What are the details?” Sark asks down to him.

 

“Uh,” Evan searches for his words. “There's this huge, run down crack house out in the county.. I'm going there, when he asks me to... And...”

 

Evan shrugs a bit as he trails off. Lui raises an eyebrow.

 

“You mean that little ass hut we nabbed Moo and Nogla from?” Evan nods. “Damn..”

 

“Huh?” Sark huffs.

 

“Not too many places to set up an ambush.. Place is like, super country. Maybe there's a shack out from there we can set up at. How far can you shoot?”

 

“As far as I need to,” Sark replies blandly. He rubs at his stubble a bit, thinking through his options.

 

“What are you even trying to do?” Evan asks after a moment.

 

“Well, since you decided to completely doom yourself, we're gonna use you as bait,” Brock answers in a voice that gives Evan a sick feeling. He knows how much he's hurt Brock, now. And it feels fucking _terrible._

 

“We're gonna be there when your little exchange with Terroriser is going down, and before they get a chance to do anything to ya, Sark's gonna bip 'em with a badass scope,” Lui fills him in. “That's why we gotta have some kinda cover up place to hide out at so no one suspects a thing.”

 

“How are you sure you can do this?” Evan asks. Lui just points a finger at Sark, none of the three saying anything in response. Evan just sighs, rubbing his face lightly in aggravation. “That's super reassuring.”

 

“Give me a chance,” Sark tells him, keeping his arms crossed. “There's bound to be another house out there we can set up at. I _know_ there is. And even if not, we can figure something out. What other details do you know?”

 

“Well, he plans on beating the shit out of me before he kills me, so maybe you'll have a nice clean shot at his head while he's stomping my fucking rib cage into my lungs,” Evan shrugs. He can see Brock physically quake out of the corner of his eye, and he looks up at the older, giving him a quiet apology.

 

“No one's touching you, Evan. We're gonna take care of it before they have a chance to,” Sark tells him with a soft smile.

 

“They're gonna know something's up if they just start getting shot up the second I get there,” Evan groans. “There's most likely gonna be three of them, one of me, and one of you way off in the fucking distance. This isn't going to work.”

 

“Okay, so we're gonna ignore Evan's comments, now,” Sark groans, squinting when the owl goes to talk back. “Stop.”

 

After a long half hour of talking, the group ultimately comes to the same conclusion; tiny camp out. Lui used his phone to snoop into all of the little structures in the same area of the crack house, revealing only a small, broken down farmhouse down the road, puny compared to the two story house Evan will be at. Sark is going to take both Lui and Brock out to the smaller house at least a day in advance, and they're all going to watch out for the meeting, and when Sark believes he has the best shots, he's going to take them all out. When Evan hears the first shot, he's supposed to slither himself into the house, and wait there until one of the three come to get him. Evan doesn't understand how exactly this could possibly work, but Evan has no other choice but to agree with them.

 

Seeing as how the three want to be as undetected as possible, Sark is urging them to leave Thursday night by the latest to set up a small camp in the opposite house. He thinks it would be the safest for them to move around undetected. That being said, Evan already feels extremely lonely, just knowing that he's only going to have a short time with Brock before he potentially never sees him again. He isn't fond of the idea at all, but he's aware he can't change their minds. He's fine with it.

 

Sark and Lui finally leave, but not after Sark privately gave Evan several apologies for how aggressive he was to the younger. Evan insists on how he's fine afterwards, but he has to admit, he really was a fair bit frightened. Of course, he deserved it. Evan won't deny that.

 

Brock didn't visit with Evan a lot during the rest of the night, showing Evan just how upset he is by Evan's actions. It hurts Evan more than he thought it would, and he finds himself dragging himself outside a few times during the few lonely hours, just sitting quietly in the cold without anyone to talk to. He could always stick his nose into the other roommates' business, but with Craig still upset over losing Chilled and Marcel constantly on the phone with either Lui, Droid, or Nogla, he doesn't see a lot of space for himself. He feels so childishly _useless,_ like he's become some sort of burden on his friends. He regrets quitting his medication, nowadays. He misses feeling like everything's okay. He misses living.

 

Once it seems like everyone's retired to their rooms, Evan finds the strength to drag his sore body up the stairs, very quietly slipping himself into the bedroom and closing the door behind him. Brock is in the bed, laying under the covers with his back to Evan, not making any moves to acknowledge the owl's presence. There's a strange hesitance in Evan's movements as he shuffles towards the bed, leaving himself covered in the loose pajamas that Brock had given him the day before as he carefully gets himself underneath the covers behind Brock.

 

The older still doesn't move, and Evan isn't sure whether he's even still awake or not. He scoots closer until he's pressed into the other's back, slowly snaking his arm around Brock's frame. It feels like Brock almost sighs, hinting at him being awake, and Evan takes the chance to finally speak up.

 

“I'm sorry,” Evan whispers into Brock's shoulder, closing his eyes softly. “I fucked up... I'm sorry for it.. I want you to know that..”

 

“Then why don't you talk to us?” Brock answers almost immediately, voice as soft as Evan's. Evan's muscles tense in the slightest, his eyes closing tighter to try and avoid crying for the millionth time. “You act like none of us are going to miss you if you do this shit.. And like... You don't care about what would happen to our group if you were gone.. Have you even thought about _us?_ ”

 

“I know,” Evan mumbles with a shaky breath, hand gently gripping at the blanket bunched up near Brock's chest. Brock must be able to tell Evan's on the verge of tears, slowly turning himself under Evan's arm to face the other. Evan finally opens his eyes, letting the pair lock eye contact, tears blurring his vision in the slightest. “Honestly, I do... And I'm sorry that I'm so fucking difficult, okay? But.. I'm so scared, Brock, I don't understand what the fuck I'm doing..”

 

A small sob jumps from Evan's throat, but Brock is quick to hum quietly to the owl, cupping the younger's cheeks in his hands and using his thumbs to push away any tears that happen to escape Evan's eyes. Evan leans into the touches, his hands gently wrapping around each of Brock's.

 

“We know you are,” Brock tells him quietly. “But that would just be all the more reason you talk to us all, right? We're supposed to be your team, your _rock._ You have to feel safe around us... Be able to talk through this stuff with us...”

 

“I know,” Evan repeats, taking a deep breath as he turns his head a bit to place a light kiss on one of Brock's palms. “I'm trying... But.. Some things take a while to fix, right?”

 

“You don't need to be fixed,” Brock corrects him, giving him a soft smile. “Just some better guidance.”

 

Brock lets one of his hands slither itself underneath the pillow Evan's head rests on, the other hand giving gentle pets to the owl's head. Evan rests his hand on Brock's side softly, relaxing slowly at the small gesture. It's almost embarrassing how much Evan finds these tiny touches comfortable. He's always been the big scary Owl Man; so brave and strong and totally better than everyone else. But it seems recently that Evan isn't that at all. He's really just like any one else, full of feelings and capable of being completely broken and torn down. And Brock so happens to be one of the things that manages to bring Evan together for just a few moments, and Evan suddenly begins drowning in the thoughts of losing the older.

 

“Brock,” Evan says with a shaky breath. “I don't want you going Thursday... I just want all to you to stay here and just... Chill out.. So there won't be any reason to worry about you guys getting hurt.”

 

“I'm going,” Brock says, almost as if it's a promise. “I want to be the first one to congratulate you on winning this war.”

 

Evan can only give a weak smile at how recklessly optimistic Brock is, pulling he older a bit closer to lock their lips for a brief moment. When Evan pulls away, the two only stare at each other for a few silent moments, as if neither of them are sure of what to say.

 

“Love you,” Evan mumbles quietly, biting his tongue almost immediately afterwards. He's never out right said that to Brock, and the feeling of finally doing it makes Evan slightly nervous, unknowing of how Brock will react. Luckily for him, a small smile spreads across Brock's lips, and he leans closer to the owl by a bit until their noses are brushing together softly.

 

“Love you, too,” The older smiles, pressing his lips against Evan's one more time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHITS GONNA GO DOWN GUISE SO JUST HEADS UP FOR THAT
> 
> ALSO ALL OF YOU ARE COOL 
> 
> OKAY SEE YOU SOON <3


	39. Do It This Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo this is a fucking looooooooooong chapter theres like nearly 5,000 words because i didnt wanna split this chapter into two oh my god im s o s o r r y
> 
> the hesitance to post this chapter is realllllll oh my god.
> 
> this is technically the last chapter for Dirty Job /single tear. its been a fun run! i have a few more things to talk about regarding this fanfic that make ME personally excited, im not sure how it would do for you guys, but those update things will be in the ending note for this chapter, so if youre interested make sure to take a lil peekaboo at them notes.
> 
> there's blood in this chapter, theres poor writing skills, there's legitimate death, there's a lot of things going on in this chapter really. it's kinda a shit show. sorry about that. 
> 
> really, that's all there is besides the updates, so i'll let you guys read, and as always, i hope ye enjoy! <3

Evan pulls Brock into a tight hug, his face burying into the shoulder of the other as they embrace. He can feel the small smile on Brock's lips as the other nuzzles into his cheek, sprinkling his face in tons of small kisses, tickling the owl ever so faintly. It brings the tiniest giggle from Evan, but the feeling of loneliness never eases up on him, even as he's physically touching Brock. He isn't looking forward to having the bed to himself the night before his potential end. He's so fucking paranoid and worried, especially with knowing Brock is basically going to be sleeping in enemy territory, possibly being stalked by a fucking psychopath who's just casually daydreaming about how totally fun and enjoyable ripping them apart would be.

 

Brock promises to keep Evan updated, though. Seeing as how the three will essentially be out in the middle of _nowhere,_ no one is betting on there being decent reception out at their hideout, but he's going to at least try for Evan, just to ease his paranoia. Evan appreciates the small gesture, but he knows not to hold Brock to it. He doesn't want to give his hopes up.

 

Sark nabs the huge Sniper Rifle from Evan's closet, the same one he gave to Evan a few months before. He says it'll give him some good luck. And even though Evan can't actually get the kill on Brian, at least Brian went down with _his_ gun. That totally counts for something.

 

Brock leaves with Sark and Lui, leaving Evan alone in the hallway by the front door. Brock had already said goodbye to the other crew members earlier in the day, so none of the three were particularly needed for watching Brock go. But Evan, of course, just needed to be the parting party. It just makes him more comfortable.

 

Evan slowly shuffles himself into the living room, careful as he lowers himself to sit in the corner of the couch. His stitches throb softly as he folds his legs up to his chest, and he groans softly at the dull pain. He hates these fucking stitches, but he understands just how much he needs them in. Besides, if he lives past tomorrow night, they'll only be in for another few days. They'll be over with soon enough. If it really hurts too much for him, he could always take some medicine or something. It's not like Evan is completely doomed to be in pain forever.

 

Evan eventually drags himself off the couch, venturing up the stairs and forcing himself into a hot shower. He does his best to not completely soak his wounds, but Evan still gives them the most attention, washing away any extra dried blood and sand and whatnot. The hot water feels amazing on his skin, his back especially, and he finds it difficult to get out after he's finished washing himself completely. But surely, he does, lazily drying himself off and putting himself in a clean pair of loose pajamas.

 

He glances at his phone once he's dressed, stopping when he sees a text from Brock and immediately opening it.

 

_Brock: Finally there. We're all gonna go ahead and sleep. You should too, Evan. I'll try to text you tomorrow. <3_

 

Evan types out a quick reply, snagging the blanket from off his bed, along with his favorite pillow, and dragging the bedding down the stairs with him. He tosses it all onto the couch, huffing softly as he rubs around the stitches.

 

 _One more night sleep,_ he thinks to himself, slowly making himself comfortable on the couch. It takes him quite a while of just staring at the walls and ceiling for him to finally fall asleep, but when he does, he's actually _asleep._

 

\- --- - ---- - ----- -

 

“ _Shh!!” The harsh whisper says, muffled by seemingly nothing. “Just let him sleep! He needs it!”_

 

Evan shifts a bit uncomfortably, shrinking himself back into his pillow.

 

“ _He's asleep so hard!” The second familiar voice responds defensively, louder than the first. “He'll be fine!”_

 

Evan's eyes pop open, a soft groan rumbling in his throat when the light from outside the glass doors hits his eyes. He can see the outline of a head that pops its way from over the back of the couch, blurred by the bright lights, and Evan slowly rubs his eyes, turning to lay on his back. He opens his eyes one more time, blinking when he recognizes Mini's face looking down at him, a soft smile across the lad's lips.

 

“Hey, Ev,” The Brit says softly. “Did we wake you up?”

 

“Sure,” Evan groans softly, rubbing his palms over his face.

 

“See? I told you to be quiet!” Mini says accusingly to Tyler, who's moved himself to the kitchen. Tyler only replies with a half-assed groan, getting an annoyed sigh from Craig. Evan slowly sits up on the couch, pushing the blanket from his body and hissing at his tight muscles. Frowning, Mini asks, “How do you feel?”

 

“Like I'm on the verge of death,” Evan deadpans, frowning at the sigh from behind him.

 

“You'll do just fine today,” Mini tells him comfortingly, reaching over and ruffling the owl's hair. Evan smiles a bit back a the Brit, watching as Craig takes himself to the kitchen.

 

Evan sighs softly, bowing his head and hiding his face in his hands. He doesn't want to be awake. He doesn't want to be able to think about anything. He wants to just curl up, sleep until his body can't sleep anymore, and then keep sleeping. Everything is just moving so slowly for him, _especially_ the wait for Terroriser to ask for him. Just _hours upon hours_ of Evan gluing himself to the couch while he stares at his cell phone, only talking to he others when they come sit on the couch next to him and bother him about small things. He doesn't act snappy to them or anything when they begin to bug him about his meeting, but he drops obvious hints that he absolutely doesn't want to talk about it, and the three back off eventually. Really, Evan just wants Brock here. He'd know what to do to make the situation better. He could fix the house's atmosphere.

 

Evan's not as scared as he thought he would be when he receives Terroriser's text, only giving a soft sigh when he reads the words. Mini is sitting on the couch next to him, giving an interested hum when he sees Evan begin trying to drag himself off the couch.

 

“Booty call,” Evan jokes coldly, and Mini nods a bit.

 

“Terroriser?” The Brit asks.

 

“Yep.” Evan shoves his feet into his shoes, accepting his jacket from Mini's outstretched hand.

 

“Good luck, Ev... We'll see you soon.”

 

Evan carefully makes his way upstairs, shoving his loaded pistol into his waistband and texting Brock about being on his way before heading off upstate. His mind has completely shut itself down, giving him nothing to listen to but static. He can't even _force_ himself to feel upset about the annoying silence, Evan's so off. He could be at a party right now, getting drunk off his ass and high as he clouds if he never got their crew into all of this shit, but instead he's just casually driving himself to his possible death on a Friday afternoon. This is such _bullshit._

 

He hardly remembers where the house is, only knowing for sure because of the expensive cars in the front. Evan's stomach flips, and as he glances towards the small shack he takes in a deep breath, feeling confident in Sark's ability to protect him. Though, Evan isn't completely sold on living through this. He's completely aware that this could go wrong in some way, and he won't be unhappy if it does. _It's just business._

 

The two expensive cars are parked to the right of the house, lights on, three figures leaning against one of them. Evan doesn't have to see details to know who the three are, choosing not to stare any longer as he parks on the opposite side from them. With a deep breath, he turns the car off and slowly climbs out of it. _Stay cool._

 

The headlights from Terroriser's cars illuminate pretty much the entire front yard of the house, giving it that extra shine while the sun sets. Evan walks only a few feet from his car, keeping himself right in the light, leaving several yards between himself and the kingpin. Terroriser walks out from where he's been leaning, a predatory smirk across his lips as he stares Evan down, hands in his coat pockets. He leaves a large amount of space between himself and Evan, ignoring the shuffling when Gassy and Ohm move to stand by his sides. Neither of them are looking at Evan, glancing around at the house or the sky. Evan tunes the two out, eyes fixed on Terroriser.

 

Evan feels sick when his eyes meet Terroriser's, so he instead stares down at the kingpin's pockets, gulping as he sees Brian's hands shifting inside. He can _feel_ Terroriser's eyes burning into him, staring at him, and he absolutely hates it. It's so annoying and condescending. He wants it to stop.

 

“You're so honorable, Vanoss,” Brian coos, his smirk only growing wider at the glare Evan sends him. “Really! Sacrificing yourself for your friends... It's so beautifully fairy tale of you.”

 

“Why do you insist on being a dick?” Evan spits, glaring at the kingpin.

 

“I've got to make this visit _extra sweet,_ Vanoss,” Brian coos, rocking back and forth on his toes and heels. “It won't be as fun to take you down if you aren't a bit riled up.”

 

Evan cringes faintly, a small growl rumbling lightly in his throat. “You're disgusting.”

 

Brian only responds to the owl with a dark, toothy grin, one of his hands coming out of his pockets to tap lightly on his chin in thought. Vanoss holds his breath, eyes fixed on the metal looped around his knuckles. He can almost still feel them on his skin from all those months back, leaving the hurtful marks on his body. Terroriser must see how Evan gets tense, his smirk only growing more predatory as he stares the owl down.

 

“I was completely right about you, Vanoss,” Brian begins. “You're weak. You're so small, and you strive off of other people's orders.”

 

“You have no clue what you're talking about.” Evan's beginning to find it harder to breathe, and he's starting to wish that Sark would pull the damn trigger already. He needs to have this end.

 

“Sark?” Brian asks, and Evan swallows thickly. Brian smirks as he watches the owl shift uncomfortably. “Of course we know he's still in action. You didn't think I'd just pass him off? He's the real leader of your “crew,” isn't he? Calls all the shots, babies you and the others like you're his little foot soldiers. The most you do is relay his orders to the others. That's not exactly a leader, don't you think?”

 

“Can you fucking not?” Evan spits, groaning softly at the small chuckle from the Kingpin.

 

“What, am I getting too deep for you? It's a reasonable thing to think of! Why would you be called the leader of something if you don't even tell them what to do? Answer this, who does every one of your little friends ring up when they get in trouble or need something big done, huh?” Evan opens his mouth to argue, but Terroriser cuts him off. “He got rid of Delirious' body when you decided to take him out. Was that because you called him, or because he told you to take him out, and it was all planned to begin with?”

 

“Stop talking about him!” Evan snaps unwillingly, biting his tongue once he's said it. Brian slowly closes his mouth, lips stretching slowly into a sadistic grin. Evan knows he's just toying with him, like everyone seems to just _love_ to do, and he can't let it get to him. It's exactly what Terroriser wants. He _can't_ give him what he wants.

 

“I never understood it, did you fuck him a few times before? Delirious, I mean. Because you two suuuure gave off that awkward one night stand aftermath feel,” Terroriser begins to tease.

 

Evan tells him to stop once more, his voice seeming to be weaker and shakier than before, and it only brings a deep laugh out of Terroriser. Once he's had his chuckles, he takes both hands from his pockets, gesturing Ohm towards Evan with a metal covered hand.

 

“Go ahead and search him,” He speaks. “I wanna get this party started already.”

 

Evan's body tenses, his heart racing, breath shakily entering and leaving his lungs in small pants. His eyes are still glued to Terroriser's hands as he orders the other around, and all he can think is _Sark where the fuck are you._ What if they were found out and Terroriser is just playing it off, as cool as a fucking cucumber? Or maybe, Brock never got Evan's text, and never got to alert the other two that he was coming. He'd never be able to see the three again if either of those is the case, along with the several other friends he has safely housed in the city. Evan prays for the love of all that is truly holy that each of his friends know how much he appreciates and loves them, and how sorry he is for bringing this absolute hell onto them. He doesn't want to die and leave some hint of doubt within one of them that there's even some sort of negativity in his feelings for them.

 

His eyes move to Ohm, and the second Ohm takes a step towards Evan, there's a loud, distant shot echoing through the quiet night, and Ohm's body jerks in the slightest, his body limply falling hard onto the ground. His mask wasn't covering his head this time around, giving the three a perfect view of the small, dark hole right in the center of his left temple. His eyes are wide open, staring into the space ahead of him with no expression. There's a small puddle of blood pooled beneath his head, soaking into the gravel and dirt around it, and Evan lets out a faint gasp at the sudden shot. It takes him a second to remember the plan to run as soon as he heard shots, and he turns on his heel, running towards the far end of the house.

 

He hears Gassy yelling for Ohm, and his heart beat is nearly as loud, thumping in his ears the entire run around the corner of the house. There's another echoing gunshot, and there's no more yelling for Ohm, so Evan can only assume the outcome of the noise. He stops when he comes across a completely shattered window low to the ground, deciding it be best to at least get some sort of place for himself to be able to avoid any sort of harm. Evan swiftly climbs in, cringing at the loud creak of the broken panels of wood below him as his feet press down onto them. His breath is heavy, forcing him to try and regulate his breathing quickly to try and get himself quiet.

 

Eyes darting around the large room he's in, he inspects his surroundings, taking everything in. amazed at the horrible conditions of the house. No wonder no one is living inside it. Cracks in the floorboards, chips in the paint and holes in the walls, rot of all kinds. There's a stale stench all around him, and he crinkles his nose in the slightest, just standing there in the silence, squinting due to the fact the only light in the house is the headlights soaking in through a few open spaces near the front of the building. The sudden realization of silence makes him freeze, and his eyes glue themselves towards the front of the house.

 

_There was no third gunshot._

 

His eyes dart around again, and he has a sudden horrible feeling. Gassy isn't yelling for Ohm or making any other noises, so he _has_ to be down. That only leaves Terroriser possibly alive, which means Evan is in _a lot_ of trouble. Evan just needs to stay quiet, keep himself on his toes, and find out for sure why there's only been two shots.

 

His stitches throbbing in the slightest from pulling himself through the window, Evan ever so slowly makes his way towards the front of the house, trying not to make the floor beneath him creak as he does. He pokes his head through the door frame without a door, glancing around the what seems to be an old living room with caution before stepping inside. There's more light inside this room with the windows being mostly shattered open, letting in the headlights and whatnot from the outside, giving Evan a bit of a more comfortable work space. Evan goes to take a few more steps to the windows to get a look out to the front, but before he gets there, there's a small shuffle from behind him, and he spins himself around.

 

As he feared, Terroriser was the cause of the noise, but Evan has no time to react to the other before brass knuckles connect to his cheek roughly, sending him straight to the ground. The inside of his cheek smashes right into his teeth, and he unwillingly bites down at the impact, causing blood to pour into his mouth from multiple areas. The punch has his head spinning instantly, his shoulder throbbing softly from him landing pretty much directly onto it. Evan can just turn onto his back before there's a knee pressing roughly into his ribs, Terroriser kneeling a majority of his weight onto the owl, effectively keeping Evan down and forcing the gun Evan's managed to still keep in place into his back uncomfortably. Terroriser's hands wrap _very_ tight around Evan's throat, squeezing a whimper out of Evan along with all of his air, and he only presses down harder.

 

“That was the plan, huh?” Terroriser growls down to Evan, squinting when the owl begins to frantically grab and pull at Brian's wrists with no luck. “Kill me and my fucking guys?? Well guess what, Evan.. I'm fucking taking you with us, and we're going to make your life in Hell worse than your fucking nightmares, you little cockaroach.”

 

Evan shakes his head faintly, unable to tear his eyes away from Terroriser's deathly stare. The kingpin is a lot stronger than Vanoss had originally thought, strong enough for Evan to be unable to rip his hands away from his throat to rid himself of the bruising grip. He feels lightheaded and weaker than he should be, and in a last attempt to break free, he shoots a hand up to Brian's face. His fingers curve as he claws roughly at any area of Brian's face that Evan can manage to reach; cheeks, eyes, lips, throat, an _ything._ Terroriser leans back to do his best to get Evan's hand out of reach, though he eventually has to let one of his hands go from around the owl's throat to try and rid his face of Evan's nails, giving Evan a chance to lay as hard of a punch as he can manage right into Terroriser's rib cage.

 

Brian finally lets go enough for Evan to be able to push him off and kick and scramble away, gagging and coughing as he chokes down stale air. His head is spinning, and he can hear Terroriser moving behind him, sending a wave of crushing anxiety over Evan. He needs to get away, do _something,_ because Evan can't die like this. He needs to buy himself time for the others to help him.

 

In a last attempt to keep Terroriser away from him, Evan snatches his pistol from his waistband, sitting himself up and training his gun right to Terroriser. Brian is standing up, now, switchblade open and in his hand, facing right at Evan. His face is covered in deep red marks and a few specks of blood, eyes narrowed dangerously as he glares at the owl. Evan's breaths are coming in short pants, his stitches and neck throbbing painfully from all the battling, hands shaking softly under the terrifying glare.

 

Brian's eyes move from Evan's face to the gun, a creepy smile pulling his lips. “Do it,” Brian easily rolls off his tongue, locking eyes with Evan once more.

 

This time around, Evan doesn't hesitate. He pulls the trigger, probably a few more times than he really needs to. A majority of his shots land scattered about his chest and shoulders, the very last one landing right through one of Brian's eyes. It's completely silent after the echoing, ringing gunshots, the loud thud of Brian's body hitting the floor being the only sound there to break the silence. Evan's still short of breath, panting as he stares at the limp body ahead of him, ears ringing and throat tight. Brian doesn't move, and neither does Evan, too scared that there's some sort of trick going on.

 

The faint sound of a car engine breaks through the night quiet, a new pair of headlights sending light dancing through the janky house. Evan shifts a bit to look, the movement sending sharp pains all throughout his side. With a glance down, he can see blood seeping through his shirt and jacket, no doubt coming from the stitches. All of the moving around must've caused a few of them to rip, resulting in all of the pain and blood. Blood falls from his lips and drips down his chin, falling to join the blood across his shirt, and the taste makes him want to barf.

 

Brock eventually makes his way into the house, glancing between Brian's corpse and Evan's weak frame before he moves right to Evan, checking the owl over. Evan can only grip lightly onto one of Brock's wrists for some sort of close contact, still overwhelmed from nearly being strangled to death. There must be some sort of marks from the action on Evan, seeing as Brock's fingers ever so softly trace over the most pained parts of Evan's throat, his eyebrows furrowed in a mix of emotions.

 

“You did it,” Brock tells him softly when Evan turns his attention to Brian's corpse once again. Sark and Lui push themselves into the house, both of them taking in the scene before them. Evan's eyes meet Brock's again, his grip on Brock's tightening in the slightest. “It's over.”

 

_It's over._

 

_\- --- - ---- - ----- -_

 

“ _Big news for Los Santos this morning.. Police reports are flooding in, claiming that the Drug Lord best known as 'Terroriser' has been officially claimed dead. Details are not released as of yet, such as the personal identities of the victims. The most we're able to confirm is that Terroriser and two of the men he ran with, each going by 'Gassy Mexican' and 'Ohmwrecker,' were found dead outside of a condemned home near Harmony after a call to the police department nearing Midnight last night. The caller is unknown, phone number tracing back to a payphone in Sandy Shores. We have here with us Roman Anderson of LSPD- Mr. Anderson, what does the death of one of the biggest threats to the citizens of Los Santos mean for everyone?”_

 

“ _Well,” The man shifts in front of the camera. “Terroriser's operation was mainly focused on Cocaine trafficking and Weapons trafficking, so one thing we can expect is a spike in our local gang violence primarily caused by drugdeals going wrong.. Though, even with that being said, I believe a lot of the killings and Heists and things of that higher up street crew stuff will actually die down by quite a bit. Safer streets for everyone.”_

 

“ _Do you think with Terroriser and his crew being technically shut down like this, we won't see any independent street crews running around alongside local gangs anymore?”_

 

“ _Oh, definitely not. One crew goes down, and within a few months, a new crew will pop up. It's just a matter of time before someone potentially worse will take Terroriser's place.”_

 

Evan huffs softly, pulling his knees to his chest as he sinks deeper into the couch. There's a shift in the couch, and he turns a bit, smiling as he watches Brock take a seat in the corner of the couch. Brock opens his arms, letting Evan snuggle against him. The two stay quiet, eyes glued to the news until the commercials pop on, forcing Evan to mute the T.V.

 

“How do you feel?” Brock asks.

 

“Better,” Evan says softly, laying his head on Brock's shoulder.

 

“What about your cheek? Let me see.”

 

Evan turns a bit, lifting his head so Brock can glance over his features. “Hurts. Soft foods will probably help. How does it look?”

 

“Bruised and swollen,” Brock tells him, eyes trailing to Evan's throat with a frown. “Same there...”

 

Evan reaches a hand up to cover the spots on his neck, frowning at the reminder. Brock only smiles softly, pressing a kiss to Evan's temple.

 

“How do you feel up here?” Brock asks, tapping his own head in some sort of gesture. Evan shrugs a bit, taking a deep breath.

 

“I feel like... He never even existed. And like... I feel like, we're safe?” Evan blinks a bit at Brock's happy smile, shifting himself as he sits up a bit.

 

Sunlight suddenly fills the living room, causing both Evan and Brock to squint. With a glance outside, Evan can see how the clouds have begun to scatter about, revealing a bit more space for the sun to shine through. Evan feels like he hasn't seen the sun in forever, almost forgetting how pretty it looks outside when it shines. It's definitely been a while, and Evan couldn't think of a better time for the sun to make an appearance again.

 

“What the fuck is that shit?” Marcel's voice sounds from behind the couch. The couple turn their heads, smiling as they watch Craig, Tyler, and Marcel move around the furniture. Marcel's eyes are squinting at the glass door, his nose scrunched a bit.

 

Tyler flops into the opposite corner of the couch as Brock, sighing as he says, “The Yellow Grape has finally decided to come play, and Marcel is getting whiny about it. Guess we can never go to the Beach as a group ever again.” Tyler smirks playfully up to Marcel, giving Mini a light kiss on the top of the head when the lad squishes up against him. Marcel glares down at Tyler, deciding to take his place in the couples' lap, legs draping over Evan and Brock's laps. Evan has to shift a bit, just to make sure Marcel doesn't accidentally bump his legs into his new stitches.

 

“I'll go, whether you guys come or not,” Evan mumbles, only loud enough for Brock to hear. The older smiles, pulling the owl up to press his lips against Evan's softly.

 

“Ew,” Tyler groans. “Get the mushy shit outta here.”

 

Evan and Brock snort a bit together in laughter, relaxing back into the couch together. The news has come back on, but no one in the group has made any move to unmute it to pay attention to it. The crew eventually fall into light conversation, laughing together every once in a while and completely ignoring the T.V all together. Evan doesn't pay a lot of attention to the conversations happening around him, mostly focusing on Brock's fingers stroking over the bruised skin on his cheek as he stares at the sunlight outside.

 

“Oh hey, look at that,” Mini speaks up, glancing at the crew spread across the couch. “The gang's all here, _peacefully.”_

 

Evan smiles a bit, glancing around as they begin holding conversations between each other again. They all look so genuinely happy, now. Eyes shining bright, laughs loud, and not once do any of them mention any concerns over their well beings. They just hang out and actually have fun, like they did with the birthdays or on the weekends before they started crew work. But this time, it's different. They're all _actually_ having fun, not just putting on some sort of mask to hide how fucking terrified they are from the others.

 

They're happy because they're together. They're happy because they're actually happy.

 

They're happy, because it's _over._

 

And Evan can't think of a better feeling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bad ending is bad oh god i knowwwwww BUT
> 
> I've decided that this fanfiction will probably be COMPLETELY REDONE! like in my free time, though. but I kinda fucked myself over in the beginning of this fanfiction with trying to ive myself a word limit and all of that nonsense so i feel like this fanfiction never got to see it's full potential, plus there are just things in general I could go in and fix to try and make this project SUPER PERFECT. so i've decided that with my free time between writing my other fics, I'll pop in every once in a while to a new, hopefully better version of this one, that I'll probably post all in one go once I've finished it. 
> 
> that being said, the oneshots that i have planned out for going with this specific fanfiction are taking a bit longer than expected for me to make, especially with the random things i've been having to jump on my feet and do around me in real life. so they're gonna be coming at some point, don't worry!! They're just gonna take a hot minute. (And instead of just dancing around it, the oneshots i'm taking about are gonna be a SeaChaos of Chilled perspective of what happened during he and Adam's death, an H2oVanoss of just them kinda chillin out and being a couple in this specific universe of mine, and then a chapter that's going to actually go IN with the whole of Dirty Job as essentially an epilogue of our babies after all of this has gone down.)
> 
> really guys, i do appreciate every single one of you that's come through and enjoyed the shit out of this fanfiction, because really it was so much fun to make and so much fun to read your guys' reactions to my cliffhangers and see how you guys just generally felt about the situation of the fanfiction in a whole. it's really made me excited to continue writing things and putting it out for the interwebs to see. Really excited ;o;
> 
> If you're interested and havent seen it already, by tumblr is gotthat-miniladddclutch.tumblr.com, and it's there that you'll find my shitty blogging skills and be able to request things from me, send me things, and just generally talking to me! im super open to you guys just wanting to chat and shit, yo, i dont bite <3 i'll also update there whenever I post a story here, so that should be cool!
> 
> you guys are seriously awesome, love you, and i'll talk to you in the next whatever i post. bye!! <3


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